Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress  in  the  year  1874,  by 

H.   8.   GOODSPBED, 

In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington, 
D.  C. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 
A.  MARKED  CHARACTER  INTRODUCED  TO  THE  READM,     •     •     •     •     31 

CHAPTER  II. 
THE  MANUSCRIPT, ,,38 

CHAPTER  lEL 
MINNIE  HEUMOW,  •     •     •     .     •     50 

CHAPTER  IV. 
A  NEW  PROJECT, 58 

CHAPTER  V. 
THE  SPELL  BROKEN  —  EVIL  COUNSELS  PREVAIL, »     68 

CHAPTER  VI. 
THE  "  HOME  "  —  A  WRONG  REGULATED,   .  74 

CHAPTER  VIL 
DEATH  IN  THE  ATTIC, 88 

CHAPTER  VHi. 
A  WEDDING  AT  THE  COTTAGE  —  ONLY  ONE  GLASS  M  .  .     .      94 


20647G6 


yi  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  IX. 
FIRST'FBOITS,  110 

CHAPTER  X. 

TlIE  AUTHOR  TALKS A  LAPSE  OF  TEN  YEARS  IN  OUR  HlSTORT  -  - 

THE  CHANGE, 121 

CHAPTER  XL 
A  WINTER  SCENE, .   135 

CHAPTER  XIL 
THREE  MEETINGS,  AND  WHAT  WAS  SAID  —  A  PRAYER  ANSWERED,   .   145 

CHAPTER    XIIL 
MABEL  DUNHAM, 159 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
GOING  FROM  HOME, 167 

CHAPTER  XV. 
UNMOORED  FROM  THE  HEARTH, •••••175 

CHAPTER    XVL 
THE  STRANGER  IN  THE  TARPAULIN,     .........  180 

CHAPTER  XVIL 
THE  TRIAL, 186 

CHAPTER  XVIIL 
THB  GALLOWS  CHEATED  OF  A  PREY  —  THE  PEOPLE  OF  *.  SIGHT,         201! 

CHAPTER    XIX. 
THE  WATT  FAMILY, 2i£ 


CONTENTS.  Vll 

CHAPTER   XX. 
"MORAL    SUASION," 221 

CHAPTER   XXL 
A  BEACON  ON  THE  WASTE 233 

CHAPTER  XXIL  i 

BREAKING    GROUND  AGAIN, 244 

CHAPTER  XXIIL 
MGUT  IN  A  DARK  PLACE, 265 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 
WASHINGTONIANISM — THE  OLD  MAN'S  STOST,    .,,...  281 

CHAPTER  XXY. 
HIGH  LIFE, 305 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

CLEAN  TICKETS  — STICKING  TO  PARTY, 319 

CHAPTER  XXVIL 

POISON  IN  THE  CUP  —  SIGNATURE  OF  THE  DEAD  —  A  GTTEST  NOT  IN- 
VITED,   353 

CHAPTER  XXVHL 
Two  MORNING  CALLS  —  A  LIVE  MAN  FOR  A  DEAD  ONK,  ....  870- 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 
THE  "WICKED  BLOT — THE  WICKED  TRIUMPH,     ......  388 

CHAPTER  XXX. 
ANOTHER  VICTIM  IN  THE  NET  —  THE  WICKED  STILL  TRIUMPH,     .     .  896 


Vlll  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XXXL 
THE  SECBET  Our  —  A  FATAL  WAGER, 408 

CHAPTER  XXXIL 
A  G  ROUTING  OF  SCENES, 433 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. 
A  STAB  IN  THE  EAST  —  THE  PLAGUE  STATED,  ......  444 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 
Two  RESCUES, 473 

CHAPTER  XXXV 

IN  "WHICH  THE  READER  WILL  FIND  SOME  OLD  ACQUAINT- 
ANCES, AND  LEAIJN  WHAT  BECAME  OF  THEM,  .....  494 

CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

THE  JOT  OF  DOING  GOOD — MINNIE  AND  WALTER  BECOME  INTER- 
ESTED IN  THE  GOOD  TEMPLAR  MOVEMENT- WALTER  MADE 
GRAND  WORTHY  TEMPLAR  ....  511 

CHAPTER  XXXVH. 

TWENTY  YEARS  LATER.  REMOVAL  OF  MINNIE  AND  WALTER 
TO  OHIO — THE  PREVALENCE  OF  INTEMPERANCE  THERE  — 
THE  WOMEN'S  CRUSADE  —  IDA'S  LETTER  TO  CARRIE 
HUDSON,  .  ' 518 


PREFACE. 


OUR  Preface,  reader,  shall  have  the  merit  of  brevity,  and 
shall  detain  you  but  a  moment. 

You  -will  bear  in  mind  that  every  chapter  in  the  book  is 
drawn  from  life,  with  the  necessary  change  of  names  and 
dates  —  the  only  difficulty  having  been  in  selecting  from  the 
mass  of  materials  collected  during  an  active  participation  in 
the  Temperance  Reform.  Those  living  who  have  a  vivid  re- 
membrance of  the  scenes  herein  detailed,  will  appreciate  our 
object  in  sketching  them. 

The  history  of  the  "  Watt  Family  "  was  written  with  a 
throbbing  nib,  and  its  truth  sealed  with  the  endorsement  of 
a  scalding  tear. 

If  our  record  shall  arouse  a  single  heart  to  a  more  in- 
veterate hatred  against  the  Great  Wrong,  our  object  will 
have  been  accomplished. 

—  Pass  on. 


MOTHER  STEWART.  THE  LEADER  OF  THE  "WOMEN'S  MOVEMENT." 


INTRODUCTION. 


FOE  forty  days  and  forty  nights  the  rain  poured 
down  from  the  open  windows  of  the  heavens,  until 
the  flood  covered  the  earth,  and  the  sun,  after  the 
storm,  smiled  down  upon  the  watery  waste,  where 
a  world  lay  entombed.  Solitary  and  alone,  without 
helm,  mast,  or  sail,  like  a  speck  on  the  world-wide 
ocean,  floated  the  ark  with  its  freight.  The  olive 
branch,  borne  upon  a  weary  but  glad  wing,  proclaimed 
the  subsiding  of  the  deluge.  The  sunbeams  kissed 
the  vapors  as  they  rolled  up  from  the  retiring  waters, 
and  the  bow  of  promise  lifted  its  arch  into  the 
clouds. 

Noah  went  out  and  planted  a  vineyard.  He  par- 
took of  its  fruits,  and  lay  in  his  tent  in  the  slumbers 
of  drunkenness.  The  frailties  of  a  good  man  are 
used  to  justify  the  drinking  usages  of  to-day.  The 
scourge  of  a  world  passed  away,  had  commenced  its 
progress  again  in  the  new.  From  that  vineyard  the 
tide  has  swept  on,  gathering  in  depth  and  power, 
until  the  debris  of  human  ruin  has  been  left  on 
every  shore  where  human  foot  has  trodden.  Stream 
has  mingled  with  stream,  and  wave  followed  wave, 

(xiii) 


XIV  INTRODUCTION. 

until  every  land  and  people  have  been  scourged.    In 
the  hamlet,  the  city,  the  country,  or  wilderness,  the 
influence  has   been  the  same.     Nations   have  been 
drunken  to  madness.     New  woes  and  keener  sor- 
rows have  been  sent  out  to  stalk  through  the  world, 
followed  by  red-handed   crime  and  ghastly  death. 
Beneath  those  oblivious  waves,  the  brightest  hopes 
of  earth  and  heaven  have  gone  down ;  and  up  and 
down  the  world  the  stricken  millions  have  wasted 
away,  and  prematurely  mingled  with  a  mother  dust. 
North,  east,  south  and  west,  the  plague  has  spread. 
The  white  sails  of  commerce  have  borne  it  across 
oceans.     The  pioneer  has  carried  it  across  the  wilder- 
ness.    The  trader  has  scaled  the  mountain  range, 
and  thus,  in  civilized  and  savage  clime,  the  noon-day 
scourge  has  sped  on  in  its  mission  of  ruin.     In  the 
hut  of  the  savage,  or  where  science,  letters  and  art 
have  elevated  and  refined,  the  effects  have  been  the 
same.     The  very  heart  of  human  society  has  been 
poisoned,  until   along  every  artery  of  health  and 
strength,  the  hot  currents  have  swept  in  their  blight- 
ing power.     The  shadow  has  fallen   across  nearly 
every  hearth-side,  and  at  the  altar's  base ;  and  lingered 
there  like  the  foot-prints  of  unutterable  woe.     Most 
every  house  has  had  one  dead  in  it — every  circle  has 
been  broken.     Homes  are  ruined  and  deserted,  and. 
fields  turned  to  waste.     The  wife  and  the  children 
are  driven  out  from  the  home-roof,  and  to-day  the 
mothers  of  America,  like  Niobe   of  old,  as  they 
weep  at  their  broken  altars,  are  attempting  to  shield 


XNTKODTJCTION".  XV 

their  offspring  from  the  shafts  which  fall  thickly 
around,  and  quiver  in  the  tender  hearts  they  love. 
It  is  Intemperance  that  we  speak  of ;  the  history  of 
whose  desolations  has  outstripped  the  wildest  imagery 
of  tragic  fiction,  and  laughed  to  scorn  the  efforts  of 
the  tongue,  pen  or  pencil.  If  hell  has  one  more 
potent  enginery  of  human  degradation  and  crime 
upon  earth  than  another,  it  is  Intemperance.  Its 
very  sound  sends  a  thrill  back  to  the  heart,  and  a 
Gorgon  monster  slowly  rises  up  from  its  heart  of 
'ilood  among,  the  graves. 

The  gloomy  night  of  Intemperance  long  rested 
upon  the  world,  and  no  day-star  in  the  horizon.  The 
•death  slumber  was  deep  and  profound.  Like  the 
fabled  city  which  was  petrified  into  stone,  no  trumpet 
blast  rang  out  to  awaken  to  life.  Woe  and  want  went 
band  in  hand.  Vice  and  violence  stalked  unobstruct- 
ed, and  crime  laughed  and  reeled  in  its  drunkenness 
of  blood.  Alone  in  the  sky,  the  malign  light  of  the 
death-beacon  followed  man  from  the  cradle  to  the 
grave.  The  monster  sat  at  every  gathering.  At 
the  birth,  marriage,  or  death ;  in  the  home,  shop,  or 
field  ;  at  the  social  re-union,  or  the  festive  day — in 
hut,  palace,  or  council-hall,  it  plied  its  work.  The 
fair  young  bride  stood  at  the  altar  in  the  light  of  her 
bright  life-dream,  and  handed  the  goblet  to  him  she 
had  chosen  to  accompany  in  the  pilgrimage  of  life. 
At  the  social  board,  the  father  followed  the  mar- 
riage prayer  with  a  glass.  In  the  silence  of  the 
night,  where  the  living  had  just  passed  to  the  rest 


XVI  INTRODUCTION. 

of  death,  the  decanter  kept  its  watch  with  the  watch- 
ers. What  wonder,  then,  that  Intemperance,  like 
the  red  ploughshare  of  ruin,  went  under  almost 
every  hearth  ! 

A  missionary  once  found  a  heathen  mother  in 
tears.  She  wrung  her  hands  as  she  left  her  hot 
kissses  upon  the  lips  of  a  beautiful  child,  calm  in  the 
slumbers  of  death.  The  little  treasure  had  been  bit- 
ten by  a  serpent.  The  woman  was  one  of  the  ser- 
pent-worshippers, and  the  reptile,  which  had  robbed 
her  of  her  first  and  only  child,  lay  coiled  at  the 
hearth-side  of  the  home  it  had  made  desolate,  safe 
from  the  avenging  hand  of  the  superstitious  mother. 
She  would  not  destroy  it.  Need  we  wonder  .at  the 
superstition  of  the  benighted  heathen !  To-day, 
America  is  a  nation  of  serpent  worshippers.  We 
look  around  us,  and  how  many  homes  are  there  where 
the  serpent  is  coiled,  yet  madly  cherished  by  those 
who  have  mourned  the  loved  and  the  good,  poisoned 
to  death  by  its  fangs !  And  at  the  same  tune  we  sco 
a  great  and  free  people  hesitating  about  crushing 
these  serpents !  The  darker  rites  and  fearful  religion 
of  the  poor  Pagan  can  but  share  our  sympathies. 

We  are  proud  of  our  country  and  its  institutions. 
There  is  no  land  like  our  land ;  no  people  like  our 
people  ;  no  lakes  like  our  lakes;  no  streams  like  our 
streams ;  no  prairies  like  our"  prairies,  or  mountains 
like  our  mountains,  as  they  sit  upon  a  continent  and 
nod  to  each  other  in  the  clouds.  American  enter- 
prise and  American  genius,  inventive  and  literary,  is 


INTRODUCTION.  XV11 

startling  a  world  from  its  slumbers.  The  heart  of 
our  republic  throbs  up<  n  two  shores ;  and  jet,  at  the 
heart  of  all  our  free  institutions  a  cancer  is  tugging 
with  never-resting  energy.  For  its  removal,  Chris- 
tians and  philanthropists  are  marshaling. 

It  is  but  little  over  half  a  century  since  a  land  so 
favored  groaned  in  bondage  unbroken.  ~No  light  had 
broke  in ;  no  star  had  beamed  out  to  guide  our  wise 
men  to  a  Saviour.  Humanity  wept  over  the  desola- 
tions. Patriotism  saw  its  first  stars  pale  and  set  in 
darkness.  Religion  saw  its  most  gifted  ones  fall  to 
rise  no  more.  The  strongest  were  in  shackles,  and 
',he  friend  of  his  country  and  of  man  looked  out 
eadly  upon  the  scene,  and  saw  no  morning  light  in 
the  dark  night.  Foreigners  stigmatized  us  as  a  nation 
of  drunkards.  Thus,  unobstructed,  the  work  went 
on.  The  great  deep  of  popular  opinion  had  not  been 
stirred  by  a  single  breath,  but  lay  in  its  stillness  until 
miasma  had  bred  in  its  sluggish  bosom,  and  rolled  up 
to  sicken  and  destroy.  The  thunder  of  popular  will 
slumbered  uninvoked  in  the  ballot-box,  or,  like  the 
three-mouthed  dog  of  hell,  sleeplessly  guarded  the 
wrongs,  there  entrenched.  A  scourge  was  abroad  in 
the  land,  yet  a  free  and  Christian  people  slept  over 
their  wrongs,  and  yielded  without  an  effort  to  the 
annual  conscription  of  Intemperance. 

But  a  better  era  wSs  to  dawn  upon  our  country. 
A  brazen  serpent  was  lifted.  The  trumpet-blasts  of 
Temperance  Reformers  started  the  petrified  cities 
into  life.  The  plume  tossed  in  the  conflict,  the  war- 


XV111  INTRODUCTION. 

horse  plunged  and  chafed,  and  in  the  light  of  the 
coming  morning  the  Banner  of  Temperance  rolled 
out  like  a  beacon  of  hope  and  promise  to  gladden  a 
world.  A  breath  has  swept  the  valley  of  Hinnom, 
and  the  sleepers  arise.  The  ocean  is  swept  by  the 
storm,  and  hope  springs  up  in  the  human  heart.  The 
light  comes  slowly,  but  it  bears  healing  upon  its 
wings,  and  heralds  redemption  to  a  rum-scourged 
world.  There  is  joy  in  heaven  and  upon  earth.  The 
mother  weeps  tears  of  joy,  and  clasps  her  child  to  her 
bosom,  with  a  prayer  of  gratitude  for  the  promise 
which  speaks  of  a  better  day  for  her  and  hers.  And 
BO  the  great  moral  revolution  has  commenced — a  war 
of  extermination,  ending  only  when  the  rum  traffic 
shall  exist  no  longer.  A  free  people  are  girding  for 
the  conflict  with  a  hoary  curse,  saying  to  its  armies, 
as  they  wage  the  strife  from  pillar  to  pillar — "  Thus 
far,  and  no  farther." 

The  history  of  the  Temperance  Reformation  is 
not  yet  written.  The  strife  is  yet  in  progress.  But 
that  history  will  occupy  the  brightest  pages  of  our 
country's  annals,  and  command  the  admiration  of  the 
world.  We  look  back  with  a  full  heart  and  kindling 
eye  upon  that  history.  There  is  a  moral  sublimity 
and  beauty  in  the  record.  It  is  like  the  beaming  of 
the  setting  sunlight  across  the  ocean.  Storms  may 
have  swept  the  surface,  and  its  waves  dashed  angrily 
upon  the  shore ;  but  in  its  calm  there  is  a  wake  of  crim- 
son and  gold — a  beautiful  pathway,  where  angels  iniglit 
tread.  The  course  of  our  reform  has  been  marked 


INTRODUCTION.  XIX 

oy  the  most  important  results.  It  lias  carried  bless- 
ings to  myriads  of  hearts  and  homes.  There  is  an 
angel  in  its  waters,  and  peace,  happiness  and  hope 
spring  up  where  desolation  has  withered  up  the 
greenness  of  earth.  It  is  destined  to  revolutionize 
the  sentiment  of  a  world.  It  enlists  all  that  is  lovely 
and  noble  in  the  human  heart — the  eloquence  of 
poetry,  and  the  inspiration  of  genius ;  the  fervor  of 
patriotism,  and  the  zeal  of  religion.  Its  principles 
are  as  plain  to  the  mind  as  the  sun  at  mid-day,  and 
as  just  as  God.  It  is  the  gospel  of  redemption  to  a 
rum-cursed  world — the  John  the  Baptist  of  the  Chris- 
tian religion.  Like  the  Christian  religion,  its  fruits 
bear  full  evidence  of  its  blessed  character.  "When 
John  heralded  the  coming  of  the  Saviour,  he  did  not 
startle  the  world  by  the  brilliancy  of  his  promises. 
He  did  not  announce  that  Christ  was  coming  with  a 
crown  of  gold  upon  his  head  and  a  monarch's  sceptre 
in  his  hand,  with  legions  of  conquering  warriors 
bristling  in  armor,  and  in  his  train  the  kings  and 
princes — the  rich  and  powerful,  and  elite  of  earth. 
No :  the  dumb  should  speak,  the  deaf  should  hear, 
the  blind  see,  the  lame  walk,  the  dead  be  raised,  and 
the  gospel  be  preached  to  the  poor.  And  thus  along 
the  pathway  of  Christianity,  wherever  its  spirit  has 
gained  a  foothold,  there  are  eloquent  records  of  its 
principles  and  influences.  So  with  the  Temperance 
Reform.  The  heralds  did  not  announce  that  the 
fashionable  and  the  wealthy,  the  titled  great,  the 
moneyed  aristocracy  of  the  land,  would  exclusively 


XX  INTRODUCTION. 

lend  it  their  countenance.  But  the  blind  have  seen 
the  deaf  have  heard,  the  stone  has  been  rolled  awaj 
from  the  grave  of  drunkenness,  and  the  lost  restored : 
devils  have  been  cast  out  of  those  cut  among  th« 
tombs,  and  its  gospel  has  been  preached  to  the  poor 
The  reform  was  designed  by  a  kind  God  to  lift  up 
and  restore  poor  fallen  humanity,  and  not  to  add 
brilliancy  to  fashion,  or  popularity  to  men.  The  prodi 
gals,  who  have  wasted  all  in  riotous  living  and'hun 
gered  for  the  husks,  have  turned  back  from  their  dark 
wanderings,  and  the  temperance  cause  has  met  them 
half-way,  and  rejoiced  that  the  lost  were  found.  The 
so-called  fashionable  have  murmured,  and  turned 
away  with  scorn  from  such  manifestations.  They 
would  so  have  scorned  the  meek  Saviour,  because  he 
called  after  the  sinner,  and  wept  with  and  comforted 
the  poor  and  afflicted. 

The  hand  of  Providence  has  marked  the  course  of 
our  cause.  Step  by  step,  it  has  moved  onward,  ever 
going  deeper  into  the  hearts  and  consciences  of  men. 
It  has  had  its  reverses,  as  has  every  great  moral 
revolution  which  has  agitated  the  world ;  but  its  first 
standard,  "  torn  but  flying,"  floats  out  prouder  to- 
day than  ever  before.  'There  is  a  hydra  influence 
against  it — one  sleepless  and  gigantic.  But  ours  is 
the  majority,  for  God  is  with  us.  At  times  it  has 
been  beaten — its  waves  haye  rolled  back  and  again 
mingled  with  their  kindred  waters  ;  but  they  have  re- 
turned to  the  shock  with  other  waves  and  deeper 
flow,  sweeping  on  with  the  strength  and  grandeur  of 


INTRODUCTION'.  XXI 

its  power.  Wealth  has  opposed  it,  fashion  has 
sneered  at  it,  interest  has  fought  it,  demagogues 
have  stabbed  it,  and  Iscariots  have  betrayed  and  sold 
it;  but,  like  the  oak  matured  in  the  storm,  it  has 
taken  root,  until  its  towering  trunk  sways  defiance 
to  the  fiercest  wrath  of  the  tempest.  And  it  will 
live,  and  flourish,  and  gloriously  triumph. 

The  blessings  of  the  Temperance  Reform  are 
sufficient  to  reward  for  an  age  of  effort.  One  home 
made  joyous — one  broken  heart  healed  and  made 
happy — one  man  restored  to  manhood,  family,  so- 
ciety, and  God — is  a  prouder  and  more  enduring 
monument  than  ever  towered  in  marble.  What  a 
change  it  has  wrought  in  public  sentiment !  Look 
back — and  many  of  us  can  remember  it — to  the 
time  when  tippling  was  interwoven  with  every  cus- 
tom of  society,  and  infancy  sucked  drunkenness 
from  the  mother's  breast.  We  know  that  intemper- 
ance yet  sits  like  a  nightmare  upon  the  bosom  of  so- 
ciety; but  there  are  millions  of  homes,  and  fields, 
and  systems  from  which  it  has  been  forever  banished. 
Where  is  now  the  physician  that  prescribes  rum  to 
the  mother,  or  a  mother  who  swallows  such  prescrip- 
tions, or  feeds  them  to  the  child?  Where  is  the 
family  table  where  the  morning  bitters  sit  with  the 
food  which  gives  life  and  strength  ?  Where  is  the 
mechanic  who  carries  it  to  his  shop  ?  The  farmer 
who  furnishes  it  to  his  laborers  in  the  field?  The 
marriage  where  the  health  and  happiness  of  the 
bride  must  be  given  in  wine  ?  The  funeral  where  it 


XX11  INTRODUCTION. 

must  mingle  with  the  tears  of  the  bereaved  ?  They 
are  scarce.  A  blessed  light  has  dawned  upon  com- 
munity, and  it  is  found  that  man  can  be  born,  mar- 
r/.ed,  and  die  without  the  spirit  of  alcohol. 

In  the  progress  of  the  reform,  nearer  and  still 
nearer  to  the  enemy,  the  ground  has  been  broken. 
The  first  position  was  not  the  one  of  to-day.  The 
old  pledge  was  the  entering  wedge,  but  it  did .  not 
banish  the  insidious  tempter  from  our  own  rSnks. 
It  coiled  still  in  the  wine-cup,  and  in  the  more  com- 
mon alcoholic  beverages.  Experience  demonstrated 
the  folly  of  chaining  the  mad  dog,  and  the  total  ab- 
stinence pledge  was  adopted.  Then  came  a  war 
among  temperance  men,  but  the  right  triumphed ; 
for,  it  was  found  that  the  old  pledge  was  a  danger- 
ous ground  for  drinking  men.  Then  came  the 
Washingtonian  movement,  like  a  storm,  and  its  floods 
swept  on  with  startling  intensity  and  power.  There 
are  ten  thousand  trophies  where  it  moved ;  but  the 
force  of  the  torrent  long  since  spent  itself.  The 
flames  have  died  out  upon  its  altars,  as  a  general 
thing,  and  its  legions  disbanded,  or  enlisted  in  new 
organizations. 

In  the  commencement  of  our  reform,  and  for  a 
number  of  years,  the  mass  of  its  friends  considered 
"  moral  suasion "  as  the  only  means  of  success.  It 
would  have  accomplished  its  work,  were  all  men 
susceptible  to  moral  influences.  But  it  would  not 
answer  the  ends  designed.  While  human  nature  is 
such  as  to  require  penal  laws  in  the  restraint  and 


DfTRODTJCTION.  XX111 

punishment  of  its  excesses,  moral  influences  will 
never  keep  man  from  the  commission  of  wrong. 
God's  government  is  not  based  upon  moral  suasion 
ftlone.  His  laws  are  prohibitory,  as  are  the  laws 
upon  our  statute  books.  And  against  all  this  array 
of  enactments,  human  and  divine,  wicked  men  con- 
tinue to  trample  upon  the  rights  of  others.  If  laws 
will  not  prevent  the  commission  of  wrong,  who 
wouH  expect  moral  influences  alone  to  protect  the 
interests  of  society  from  the  vicious  and  abandoned  ? 
And  more  especially  would  it  fall  far  short  of  accom- 
plishing such  an  object,  when  coming  in  contact  with 
evils  sustained  and  guarded  l>y  legislation.  Seldom, 
while  avarice  has  a  home  in  the  human  heart,  can 
bad  men  be  influenced,  by  moral  considerations,  to 
abandon  a  traffic  which  law  tolerates,  and  protects, 
and  clothes  with  respectability.  With  a  license  law 
existing  and  shielding  the  seller  from  punishment, 
how  long  before  he  could  be  prevailed  upon  to 
abandon  a  lucrative  business  ?  In  most  instances 
tune  might  end  and  find  the  trafiic  in  its  full  strength, 
and  those  engaged  in  it  as  indifferent  to  our  en- 
treaties and  appeals,  as  they  are  to-day. 

It  was  thought  that  the  fountain  must  be  dried — 
the  Upas  uprooted  and  destroyed  forever.  Hence 
the  idea  of  prohibition  and  protection.  And  this 
sentiment  found  a  response  in  the  hearts  of  the 
friends  of  the  cause,  enthusiastic  and  unanimous. 
Here  was  the  great  battle-ground,  and  around  this 
banner  the  contending  interests  rallied.  Eloquence 


XXIV  INTBODUCTTOK-. 

had  been  spent  in  vain,  heretofore,  so  far  as  having 
any  effect  upon  those  engaged  in  the  traffic.  God's 
truth  had  thundered  against  them.  Facts  had  been 
t>iled  on  facts,  until  they  towered  in  fearful  judg- 
ment against  them.  Arguments  unanswerable  had 
been  adduced,  and  appeals  of  the  most  earnest  and 
touching  pathos  been  made.  All  had  been  in  vain. 
Entrenched  behind  law,  and  flanked  by  the  unscru- 
pulous demagogism  of  the  country,  they  looked 
unmoved  upon  the  ruin  wrought  by  their  own  hands, 
and  laughed  all  our  efforts  to  scorn.  A  new  system 
of  warfare  must  be  adopted,  or  the  strife  would  be 
for  time.  *As  in  times  past,  so  Providence,  at  this 
juncture,  directed  the  movements.  Then  appeared  a 
light  in  the  east,  and  clear  and  startling  above  the 
din  of  the  strife,  came  a  new  battle-cry,  thrilling  like 
an  electric  shock,  and  everywhere  arousing  our 
wearied  hosts.  A  new  banner  out,  and  its  magic 
words  filled  all  hearts  with  zeal,  faith  and  hope. 
"  The  Maine  Law  "  was  an  emblem  of  triumph.  It 
was  thought  to  be  the  mystic  writing  upon  the  wall, 
announcing  the  downfall  of  the  Babylon  whose  ini- 
quities had  so  long  cursed  the  earth,  and  the  politi- 
cal Belshazzars  already  looked  upon  the  record  of 
sure-coming  doom,  and  trembled.  The  new  plan  was 
as  simple  as  potent.  .It  embodied,  in  a  stringent 
form,  the  principles  of  prohibition  and  protection. 
Like  all  other  laws  for  the  prevention  of  crime,  it 
struck  at  the  cause,  leaving  the  streams  to  dry  up, 
when  no  longer  fed  by  the  fountain.  It  dispensed 
with  arguments  and  appeals.  It  left  no  dripping 


rNTKODUCTION".  XXV 

heads  to  multiply  others,  but  attacked  the  hydra  in 
his  den,  and  with  the  hot  irons  of  fine  and  imprison- 
ment, seared  as  it  went.  From  various  causes  the 
MAINE  LAW  failed  to  accomplish  the  grand  results 
hoped  for  it,  by  those  who  fought  under  the  banner. 
Still,  much  good  was  done,  and  the  last  great  day 
shall  marshal  an  army,  saved  from  the  power  of  the 
second  death,  as  one  of  the  benefits  of  the  Maine 
Law  agitation. 

Again  the  banner  of  the  Temperance  Reformation 
is  flung  to  the  breeze.  Before  the  emblem  of  joy 
was  seen  in  the  East.  Now  it  unfurls  its  folds  over 
the  valleys  of  the  great  West,  and,  from  present  ap- 
pearances, the  "  movement "  will  go  on  till  the  broad 
Union  is  made  to  feel  its  power.  Grand  results  have 
already  been  accomplished.  Many  desolate  homes 
have  been  made  happy.  Every  day  the  telegraph 
brings  us  news  of  victory.  May  "  God  defend  the 
right "  in  the  battle. 

In  what  is  called  the  "  Woman's  Movement,"  the 
method  of  procedure  is  for  women  to  meet  early  in 
the  morning  in  one  of  the  churches,  hold  a  prayer  and 
singing  meeting  for  an  hour  or  so,  and  then  start 
forth  in  bands  of  ten  or  twenty,  visiting  the  various 
saloons  and  drug  stores  where  liquor  is  sold,  present- 
ing a  form  of  pledge  to  cease  retailing  liquors,  with 
a  request  to  sign  and  stop  selling  liquor.  If  they 
comply,  the  ladies  pass  on  to  another ;  but  if  they 
are  met  with  a  refusal,  then  they  exhort,  persuade, 
hold  a  prayer-meeting,  sing  a  hymn,  etc.,  and  pass 


XXVI  INTRODUCTION. 

on,  promising  to  "  call  again."  Sometl  mes  the  pray- 
er-meetings continue  for  hours  with  fervent  petition, 
earnest  entreaty,  and  persistent  pleading.  This  is 
repeated  every  day  till  the  dealers  are  subdued.  Day 
after  day,  in  winter's  cold  and  sleet,  these  meetings 
are  continued,  until  very  many  towns  are  redeemed 
from  the  sale  of  liquor. 

Yarious  instrumentalities  have  operated  in  bring- 
ing the  Temperance  Reform  up  to  its  present  com- 
manding position.  Able  men  have  written  and 
spoken,  and  from  the  rostrum  and  the  pulpit  public 
opinion  has  been  educated.  But  the  great  engine 
has  been  the  Press.  This  giant  friend  of  man  in  a 
free  country,  has  scattered  its  light,  its  facts,  argu- 
ments and  appeals,  into  millions  of  hearts  and  homes. 
It  has  invoked  a  storm  slowly,  but  none  the  less 
effectually.  The  mutterings  of  years  past  are  deep- 
ening into  startling  peals,  and  the  red  language  of 
popular  indignation  and  wrath  glows  ominously 
bright  across  the  sky.  The  deep  of  public  opinion 
is  rocking  to  its  depths. 

The  Temperance  Press,  at  first  struggling  with 
almost  overwhelming  difficulties,  has  slowly  increased 
in  ability  and  power,  and  to-day  exerts  a  controling 
influence  upon  public  sentiment.  The  literature  of 
our  reform  is  assuming  a  more  refined  and  elevated 
character,  and  clothing  great  truths  in  pure  and  more 
attractive  garb ;  and  never  was  there  a  wider  field  for 
the  exercise  of  intellectual  effort.  The  wildest  dreams 
of  fiction  seem  tame  in  comparison  with  the  stern 


IXTRODTJCTIOK.  XXV11 

and  sober  realities  of  our  cause.  Tragedies,  more 
fearfully  dark  and  startling  than  Avon's  bard  ever 
sketched,  are  thickly  traced  on  the  record  of  rum's 
history.  Scenes  which  would  mock  the  artist's  pen- 
cil are  of  daily  occurrence.  The  desolate  home,  with 
its  heart-broken  wife  and  mother,  with  her  pale  cheek 
channeled  with  tears  of  unutterable  woe,  as  she 
bends  weeping  over  the  drunken  wreck  of  her  youth's 
idol ;  the  child-group  shivering  in  the  blast  or  cling- 
ing to  that  mother,  as  they  moan  for  bread;  the 
orphan  turned  out,  with  no  friend  but  God,  into  the 
wide  world ;  youth  wrecked  and  palsied  with  prema- 
ture age ;  manhood  reeling  amid  the  ruins  of  mind 
and  moral  beauty,  the  sepulchre  of  a  thousand  hopes ; 
genius  driveling  in  idiocy  and  crumbling  into  ruin ; 
the  virtuous  and  noble-minded  turning  away  from 
truth  and  honor,  and  plunging  into  every  vice ;  the 
parent  and  citizen  wandering  away  from  a  home- 
heaven,  through  a  devious  and  dark  pilgrimage,  to  a 
dishonored  grave  ;  the  home-idol  shivered  and  broken, 
the  altar  cast  down,  and  an  Eden  transformed  into  a 
hell;  childhood  and  innocence  thrust  out  from  the 
love-light  of  a  mother's  eye,  to  wallow  in  all  that  is 
low  and  vile ;  Poverty  and  Want  looking  with  pinch- 
ed and  piteous  gaze  upon  the  scanty  tribute  of  charity ; 
foul  and  festering  Yice,  with  sickly  and  bloated  fea- 
tures, leering  and  droolling  in  licentious  beastiality ; 
Madness,  with  fiery  eye  and  haggard  mien,  weeping 
and  wailing  and  cursing  in  the  rayless  night  of  intel- 
lectual chaos ;  Crime,  with  its  infernal  "ha!  ha!"  as 


XXV111  INTRODUCTION. 

it  stalks  forth  from  its  work  of  death,  with  its  red 
hand  dripping  with  the  hot  and  smoking  life-tide  of 
its  victim ; — these,  and  ten  thousand  other  combina- 
tions of  warp  and  woof,  are  woven  into  tales  of  won- 
drous intensity  and  power.  The  hovel,  the  dram- 
shop, the  subterranean  den,  and  the  mansion  of  fash- 
ion and  wealth,  have  all  furnished  the  material  for 
tales  of  startling  interest.  "When  fiction  even  has 
called  up  its  weird  creations,  they  have  been  but 
copies  of  the  facts  already  transpired.  The  moral  is 
always  there.  Thus  poetry  and  romance  have  com 
bined  to  place  the  realities  of  two  opposing  principles 
in  striking  contrast.  Such  is  the  object  of  the  fol- 
lowing tale,  from  the  perusal  of  which  we  will  nc 
longer  detain  the  kind  reader.  That  the  "  new  move 
ment "  may  triumph,  and  the  dark  shadow  of  Intern 
perance  pass  away,  is  the  earnest  prayer  of  him  whe 
has  thus  far  claimed  attention.  The  door  is  open, 
and  the  reader  2an  go  in  and  examine  the  structure 
of  the  author's  fabric  at  leisure. 


LADIES  IN  THE  "WOMEN'S  MOVEMENT." 


MINNIE  SERMON. 


CHAPTER   I. 

A  MARKED   CHARACTER   INTRODUCED  TO   THE  READER. 

ON  one  of  the  coolest  days  of  the  autumn  of  18  , 
by  invitation,  we  visited,  for  the  purpose  of  lecturing, 
one  of  the  pleasantest  villages  in  southern  New-York. 

The  SUD  was  far  down  in  an  unclouded  sky,  its 
beams  mellowing  in  the  blue  haze  which  curtained 
the  distant  hills,  and  lingering  like  a  smile  from  blisa 
upon  the  variegated  woodlands. 

"Without  seeking  the  friend  who  had  invited  us  to 
enjoy  his  hospitality,  we  passed  through  the  village, 
and  turned  from  the  highway  into  the  fields,  and  up- 
ward to  where  a  picturesque  eminence  promised  a 
more  attractive  view  of  the  autumn  scene.  The 
paths  and  the  hollows  were  filled  with  the  rustling 
leaves,  the  faded  garniture  of  summer — and  yet  a 
more  beautiful  carpeting  than  art  ever  wove.  From 
beneath  a  leaning  maple,  we  turned  to  gaze  long 
upon  the  landscape  stretched  beneath  us.  The  woods 
upon  the  hills  were  draped  in  that  gorgeous  beauty 


32  MINNIE   HEEUON. 

of  the  American  autumn,  a  sea  of  rustling  waves 
crested  with  golden  and  crimson  foam,  flecked  here 
and  there  with  the  dark  hue  of  the  evergreens.  The 
symmetrical  forms  of  the  maple  and  the  walnut  dotted 
the  farm  lauds  of  the  husbandman  with  pyramids  of 
russet  and  flame-like  canvass. 

The  Susquehanna  wound  through  the  valley  and 
away  to  the  south,  glowing  and  shimmering  in  the 
Bunbeams.  We  turned  away  from  that  which  had 
yielded  us  so  much  pleasure,  and  still  further  abdve 
us  saw  a  stranger,  evidently  enjoying  the  same  pros- 
pect. His  tall  form  stood  out  in  striking  relief  from 
its  background  of  distant  sky,  his  attitude  and  mien 
graceful  and  imposing,  as  with  head  bared  and  hat  in 
hand,  he  stood  with  folded  arms,  looking  down  upon 
the  valley.  As  we  stepped  out  from  under  the  low- 
hanging  branches,  the  rustling  leaves  attracted  his 
attention.  He  returned  our  salutation  with  a  manner 
so  easy  and  dignified,  that  we  at  once  recognized  one 
of  more  than  ordinary  mind  and  polish.  The  true 
gentleman  never  forgets  his  position  under  any  cir- 
cumstances, much  less  in  recognizing  and  returning 
the  courtesies  of  a  stranger. 

Passing  the  village  grave-yard,  where  the  white 
slabs  gleamed  in  the  setting  sun,  we  noticed  seven 
highly  finished  ones  standing  closely  together,  and 
the  same  name  chiseled  upon  all.  The  grass  towered 
raukly  upon  the  mounds,  and  the  mould  had  long 
gathered  at  the  base  of  the  marble.  The  mounds 
were  of  the  same  length,  thickly  strewn  with  the 


A   MAKKED   CHABACTEE.  33 

leaves  of  the  willow  which  dropped  its  boughs  until 
they  nearly  swept  the  ground.  As  we  emerged  from 
the  lane  leading  to  the  Iririal  grounds,  we  again  en- 
countered the  tall  stranger  of  the  hillside,  leaning 
with  a  sad  and  thoughtful  countenance  over  the  fence 
near  where  we  had  stood  by  the  seven  graves. 

The  afternoon  following,  while  standing  upon  the 
church  steps  with  a  friend,  awaiting  the  gathering  of 
the  people,  a  note  was  slipped  into  our  hand  by  a 
friend.  It  read  thus  : 

"  We  are  not  used  to  harsh  language  here  yet ;  —  be 
guarded.  Hon.  Mr.  Fenton  will  hear  you.  He  is  a 
citizen  of  talent  and  influence,  and  we  wish  to  have 
him  in  our  Division  ;  but  he  is  a  drinking  man,  owns 
the  tavern,  and  is  extremely  sensitive.  Touch  him 
gently.  A  FKIEND." 

And  so  the  Hon.  Mr.  Fenton,  and  a  rumseller, 
\vould  hear  us.  And  must  we  hesitate  in  laying  bare 
the  iniquities  of  the  traffic,  because  a  gentleman  of 
wealth,  .talent  and  standing  was  engaged  in  it  ? 
Thrusting  the  note  into  our  pocket,  we  determined  to 
take  our  own  course  —  appeal  kindly  to  men,  but 
boldly  and  truthfully  speak  of  the  wrong. 

A  sea  of  heads  was  before  us,  curiosity  drawing 
many  to  attend  the  long  talked  6f  demonstration. 
Conspicuous  in  the  centre  of  the  audience,  his  keen 
grey  eye  scanning  the  speaker  with  a  stern  and  steady 
gaze,  sat  our  tall  acquaintance.  "That,"  whispered 


34  MINNIE 

a  clergyman  at  our  side,  "is  the  lion.  MY.  Fenton. 
If  you  are  severe,  he  will  answer  you."  "We  were 
satisfied  from  whence  the  note  of  advice. 

Carelessly  we  commenced  our  remarks  upon  the 
prevalence  and  universal  spread  of  intemperance. 
Quick  answering  tears,  frbm  a  sad  looking  woman  on 
the  first  seat,  responded  to  the  truth  of  the  remarks 
made,  and  filled  our  own  heart  with  tears.  "Warming 
as  the  interest  increased,  we  continued  :  "  In  the 
mild  sunlight  of  this  blessed  day,  we  look  over  your 
heads  and  out  through  the  raised  windows,  where 
your  kindred  are  at  rest  upon  the  kind  bosom  of  our 
common  mother.  "We  know  not  the  history  of  this 
community,  but  the  destroyer  has  been  among  you. 
Undisturbed  by  our  voice,  the  sleepers  are  resting 
on  where  the  rank  grass  weaves  its  mat  over  their 
graves.  Wherever  the  living  carry  their  dead  the 
cold  arms  of  earth  have  been  rudely  opened  to  wrap 
the  victims  of  the  scourge.  Innocence,  manhood  and 
old  age;  the  strong,  the  beautiful,  the  loved,  and 
the  true,  have  alike  been  consigned  to  premature 
graves.  How  cruel  the  blows  which  crushed  from 
their  hearts,  life  and  its  throbbing  hopes !  The  kind 
marble  heralds  not  their  sad  histories ;  but  garnered 
in  kindred  hearts,  are  the  memories  of  wrongs  which 
ever  ask  a  tribute  of  bitter  tears,  as  the  living  stand 
by  their  graves.  *IIave  no  circles  been  broken  in  this 
community  ?  Ilave  no  loved  ones  been  torn  away 
from  hearts  which  dripped  tear-drops  of  blood,  to  go 
down  in  darkness  to  their  graves?  And  no  bright 


A.  MARKED   CHARACTER.  35 

resurrection  morn  to  burst  upon  then  iong  night  of 
sleep  ?  Who  of  you  have  friends  in  that  old  yard, 
whom  you  feel  were  wrenched  away  from  heart  and 
home  by  torturing  inches,  and  worse  than  murdered? 
Is  there  a  parent —  an  old  mother  —  a  broken-hearted 
wife  —  a  sister  of  never  swerving  love  —  a  child  who 
has  no  parent  but  God  —  who  does  not  go  in  there  to 
weep  over  a  grave  where  Hope  never  smiles  and 
Faith  never  whispers  "  All  is  well  ? "  Make  our  heart 
a  store-house  of  the  dark  records  of  your  history,  and 
from  this  desk  we  will  tread  the  grass-grown  alleys,  and 
here  and  there  lay  our  hands  upon  cold  and  silent  wit- 
nesses, proclaiming  in  the  sad  eloquence  of  enduring 
marble,  the  triumphs  of  the  common  scourge.  Here  is 
one,  and  there  another !  But  for  rum,  they  might  have 
sat  at  your  hearths  this  day.  And  who  slew  them  ? 
Is  there  no  hand  here  among  you  red  with  a  brother's 
blood  ?  Loo"k  !  and  if  so,  turn  away  to  a  better,  life, 
and  yield  no  more  incense  to  the  shrine  of  blood  !  " 

The  "  Hon.  Mr.  Fenton  "  sat  with  his  eye  upon  us 
as  we  proceeded,  his  chin  resting  upon  his  palm  as  he 
leaned  upon  the  pew  before  him.  A  lone  tear  slowly 
gathered  on  the  lid,  and  coursing  down  his  cheek, 
dropped  upon  the  open  hand.  As  our  introduction 
ended,  he  involuntarily  raised  his  head  and  looked 
upon  his  hand,  as  though  blood  had  gathered  there  in 
judgment  against  him,  then  bowing  himself  upon  his 
hands,  he  remained  until  the  meeting  was  dismissed. 

As  we  passed  down  the  desk,  Mr.  Fenton  came 
boldly  forward  and  stood  at  the  door.  The  audience 


36  WINNIE   HERMON. 

were  instantly  hushed,  expecting  a  war  of  words  be- 
tween him  and  the  stranger.  Reaching  out,  he  clasped 
our  extended  hand  in  both  of  his,  and  stood,  with 
swimming  eyes,  silently  before  us.  We  knew  there 
would  be  no  strife  between  us,  for  a  better  manhood 
gave  utterance  in  the  eye,  and  his  grasp  was  almost 
convulsive  in  its  energy. 

"  You  are  an  honest  man  ! "  passionately  exclaimed 
Mr.  Fenton.  "  You  have  uttered  the  truth  —  solemn, 
fearful  truth.  My  hands  are  red  with  more  than  a 
brother's  blood.  God  forgive  me  !  Let  me  tell  you 
where  they  sleep,  —  those  /  have  loved  and  lost ! " 

Mr.  Fenton  took  our  arm  within  his  own,  and  to- 
gether we  passed  into  the  yard  just  back  of  the  church. 
He  passed  by  the  seven  graves,  and  silently  looked 
down  upon  them,  while  his  broad  chest  heaved  with 
strong  emotion. 

"  There"  said  he,  with  wild  energy,  —  "  there  they 
are — all — all!  There  are  my  father  and  mother; 
the  one  died  a  drunkard  and  the  other  broken-hearted. 
In  the  next  four  graves  are  my  —  my  boys.  Brave, 
noble  boys  they  were,  too,  as  ever  parent  loved.  In 
their  strong  manhood,  they  too,  died  drunkards! 
And  here  —  merciful  God  !  at  my  feet,  is"my  injured, 
my  murdered  wife  !  "  and  kneeling  like  a  child,  and 
throwing  his  strong  arms  over  the  grave,  he  wept  as  a 
child  would  weep.  "  O !  if  God  can  forgive,  may 
the  last  of  a  once  happy  band  be  gathered  with  thee 
at  last;  and  the  hand  which  wrought  thy  ruin  bo 
washed  with  pardon  of  its  cruel  crime.  O,  what  a 


A  MARKED   CHARACTER.  37 

fearful  infatuation  has  rested  upon  ine,"  he  continued, 
as  he  raised  himself  from  his  kneeling  posture.  "  I 
see  it  all  now.  Here  by  the  graves  of  my  kindred  — 
my  all,  before  you,  sir,  and  these  people,  my  injured 
wife  in  Heaven,  and  God,  I  solemnly  swear  that  this 
hand  never  shall  again  extend  the  ruinous  cup  to  my 
fellow  man.  My  life  shall  be  spent,  so  far  as  it  is 
possible,  in  undoing  the  wrong  I  have  committed." 

In  the  clear  air  of  that  bright  autumn  afternoon,  a 
shout,  free  and  full  with  gladness,  went  up  from  the 
people  in  testimony  of  the  high  resolve.  Bonfires 
were  kindled  in  the  evening,  and  joy  beamed  upon 
each  countenance,  lit  up  by  the  glare  with  greater  in- 
tensity, as  the  blue  flame  of  the  burning  liquors  burst 
up  and  wreathed  and  hissed  with  the  red  ones  of  the 
burning  timbers. 

"  And  so  may  my  soul  burn  in  hell,  if  I  ever  har- 
bor the  cursed  poison  again  ! "  Startled  by  the  fierce 
energy  of  the  speaker,  we  turned,  to  find  Mr.  Fenton 
looking  upon  the  scene  with  a  pale  and  compressed 
lip. 


CHAPTEE  II. 

THE   MANUSCRIPT. 

OUK  host  was  early  astir,  every  move  character- 
ized by  a  new  and  more  hopeful  life.  Before  we  had 
arisen,  all  the  machinery  of  drinking  had  been  re- 
moved from  the  bar,  and  citizens  were  already  gath- 
ered on  the  piazza,  in  earnest  conversation  upon  the 
events  of  the  previous  day. 

Mr.  Fenton  persisted  in  accompanying  us  across 
the  river,  talking  sadly  of  the  past  and  hopefully  of 
the  future.  "  At  parting,  he  laid  a  heavy  roll  of  pa> 
pers  in  our  hands,  with  a  rapid  history  of  their  con- 
tents and  of  the  manner  in  \thich  they  came  into  hia 
possession.  A  friend  of  his,  in  early  life,  became  in 
temperate,  through  the  plotting  of  a  villain ;  and  in 
one  of  his  fits  of  madness,  turned  his  family  from  the 
door,  and  under  charge  of  murder,  was  confined  in 
prison,  awaiting  his  trial.  He  was  tried  and  con- 
demned, but  escaped  before  the  day  of  execution. 
This  manuscript,  the  labor  of  long  days  of  imprison- 
ment, was  handed  me  under  seal,  while  in  the  place, 
with  the  simple  injunction  that,  should  the  writer 
never  be  heard  of  again,  his  friend  should  make  such 
use  of  it  as  he  saw  fit.  You,"  said  Mr.  Fenton, 
"know  much  of  the  history  of  intemperance  and  its 


WALTER'S  MOTHER. 


T1IE   MAKUSCKI1T.  41 

terrible  ruin ;  but  yet,  the  within  may  furnish  you  with 
something  equally  as  interesting  as  that  you  have 
already  learned.  You  will  find  the  impress  of  no  or- 
dinary mind,  and  its  publication,  in  whole  or  in  part, 
may  interest  others  as  well  as  yourself." 

The  writing  was  more  in  the  style  of  a  private 
diary  than  otherwise.  We  shall  give,  in  the  course 
of  our  history,  the  substance  of  the  matter,  occasion- 
ally transcribing  whole  chapters  as  we  find  them 
written. 

"  OLD   MEMORIES. 

"  The  ocean  of  life  may  present  a  calm,  unbroken 
surface  to  the  eye — the  very  picture  of  repose  ;  while 
beneath  the  dark  and  turbid  currents  are  surging  to 
and  fro,  black  and  angry,  as  they  toss  and  leap 
against  one  another. 

"  The  sky  may  smile  without  a  cloud,  as  its  blue 
depths  are  bathed  in  a  flood  of  sunshine  ;  and  yet  the 
lightning  be  heating  its  red  bolts,  and  the  storm 
troops  marshaling  for  the  onset. 

"  The  human  countenance  may  be  as  calm  as  that 
ocean,  while  bitter  waters  are  welling  up  in  the  heart, 
as  bright  with  sunshine  as  that  sky  unclouded,  and  yet 
the  fierce  tempest  be  sweeping  across  the  soul,  or  the 
echoes  of  Sorrow's  wail  lingering  amid  the  ruins  of 
hopes  which  have  been  destroyed.  The  wildest  im- 
agery of  fiction  is  more  than  surpassed  by  the  reali- 
ties of  the  l  fitful  fever '  which  we  treat  so  lightly, 
and  yet  so  madly  cling  to  at  its  ending. 


42  MINNIE   HEEMOX. 

"  While  carelessly  touching  my  guitar,  the  fingers 
unconsciously  swept  the  strings  to  the  measure  of  an 
old  and  sacred  air,  holy  with  the  inseparable  associa- 
tions of  scenes  that  never  die  !  That  touch  was  like 
the  gush  of  long  pent-up  waters,  and  the  flood  of  other 
days  is  again  rushing  through  the  soul,  a  mingled  tide 
of  sweet  and  bitter  currents,  now  bathed  with  sun- 
light, and  again  dark  with  gloom. 

"  I  drop  the  guitar  and  gaze  long  and  dreamily 
into  the  fire,  watching  the  vision  of  years  as  they 
troop  by.  I  arn  young  again !  Ah  !  but  't  was  a 
dream,  for  the  growl  of  my  dog  has  dispelled  the  illu- 
sion, and  I  awake  to  find  a  tear  on  my  lids,  from 
which  bright  beams  of  silver  are  dancing  to  the  wa- 
ning embers  in  the  grate.  That  tear  has  escaped 
from  a  sacred  fount,  sealed  long  and  long  ago. 

"  I  touch  the  strings  again.  The  thoughts  flow  calm- 
er, and  a  strong  impulse  urges  me  to  write.  And 
why  should  I  profane  the  sanctuary  where  early  hopes 
and  dreams  are  buried  ?  Some  will  sneer  at  the  rev- 
elation. And  yet  to  see  the  words  as  they  are  traced 
upon  the  sheet,  will  be  like  looking  on  the  faces  of 
those  long  since  at  rest.  There  is  no  one  here  to  see 
me  if  I  weep  ;  and  these  weather-beaten  cheeks  will 
welcome  a  shower  from  the  heart's  flood,  which  has 
been  so  unexpectedly  stirred  to  its  earlier  depths. 

"My  manhood's  hopes  have  gone  out  in  darkest 
night,  and  infamy  rests  upon  the  once  proud  and  untar- 
nished name  of  Walter  Brayton.  An  evil  destiny  has 
followed  me  and  I  am  now  incarcerated  in  a  dungeon, 


THE   MANUSCRIPT.  43 

through  the  success  of  as  foul  a  plot  as  human  fiends 
ever  conceived,  to  accomplish  another's  ruin.  The 
world  cares  not  for  -one  whose  career  has  ended  so 
ignominiously,  and  it  may  never  see  my  name  vindi- 
cated from  the  stigma  which  now  so  unjustly  rests 
upon  it.  The  fickle  populace  has  forgot  its  idol,  and 
none  but  her  whom  I  have  most  deeply  injured  stands 
by  my  side,  while  all  else  has  been  beaten  down  by 
the  storm  which  has  come  upon  me.  She  clings  to 
me  with  a  devotion  which  no  destiny,  however  dark, 
can  wrench  away.  A  '  life  history  '  may  never  be 
seen  by  other  eyes  than  my  own,  if  ever  completed  ; 
but  the  long  days  will  speed  on  lighter  wing,  even, 
while  I  am  tracing  dark  chapters  in  my  cell.  My 
crushed  manhood's  tears  shall  attest  the  truth  of  what 
I  shall  write,  eloquent,  it  may  be,  in  warning  to  who- 
ever may  trace  these  lines,  to  shun  a  course  which 
has  so  trodden  down  as  proud  a  spirit  and  aspiring 
ambition  as  ever  throbbed  in  the  bosom  of  early 
manhood. 

"  When  eighteen  years  of  age,  my  father  removed 
from  New  Jersey,  to  a  small  and  retired  country 
settlement  in  one  of  the  northern  counties  of  New- 
York.  He  had  once  been  a  merchant  of  business  and 
standing  —  had  mingled  in  the  highest  commercial 
circles,  and  I  never  could  divine  the  reason  t  f  his  lo- 
cating in  such  a  section  of  the  country. 

"  There  are  faint  remembrances  of  my  early  home. 
There  is  a  vague,  shadowy  outline  of  a  dark  old 
dwelling,  now  lingering  in  my  mind.  All  is  dim. 


4:4:  MINNIE   HEEMON. 

misty,  uncertain.  I  can  hardly  trace  those  outlines  at 
this  late  day,  for  the  foot-prints  of  years  have  gone 
over  them.  The  impressions  seem  half  dreams  and 
half  realities.  The  remembrance  is  gloomy,  withal, 
and  as  I  wander  back,  I  shrink  involuntarily  at  the 
spectral  shadows  which  people  and  throng  around 
that  dream-land  tenement. 

"  There  was  an  old  room,  with  high,  sombre  walls, 
and  deep  windows,  over  which  hung  rich,  heavy  cur- 
tains, nearly  shutting  out  the  light  of  day.  Dark, 
massive  chairs  and  sofas  stood  against  the  walls.  And 
I  remember  that  I  dreaded  the  mirror  which  gave 
back  the  spectral  outlines  of  the  old  nurse,  and  step- 
ped back  with  a  noiseless  tread  to  the  half-opened 
door.  Once  I  looked  out  of  those  windows — only 
once.  As  I  parted  the  faded  curtains,  the  net-work 
of  cobwebs  brought  down  a  cloud  of  the  black, 
and  ugly  looking  creatures,  and  drove  me  away  in  a 
fright. 

"  Bat  there  was  one  room  which  I  remember  with 
more  dread  than  I  do  the  old  parlor.  It  was  across 
the  hall,  and  I  never  saw  the  light  of  day  break  in 
upon  its  darkness  but  once.  I  was  a  child,  and 
through  the  open  door  crept  in  and  across  to  tho 
window.  I  then  clambered  upon  the  sill,  and  with 
childish  curiosity,  pulled  aside  the  curtains.  Oh, 
what  a  flood  of  warm,  pure  sunshine  gushed  into  the 
dark  place ;  I  remember  it  distinctly,  and  how  red 
and  beautiful  the  sun  itself  appeared  just  above  the 
sea  of  roofs  !  I  clapped  rny  tiny  hands  and  shouted 


THE   MANUSCRIPT.  45 

with  glee,  upon  which  the  old  nurse  stole  up  behind 
me,  and  bore  me  away  to  the  kitchen. 

"  I  can  remember  but  one  more  visit  to  that  room. 
Everything  wore  a  mysterious  and  saddened  aspect. 
People  trod  lightly  over  the  floor,  and  spoke  in 
whispers.  I  watched  all  with  sobered  interest.  At 
last  an  old  lady  friend  took  me  in  her  arms  and  car- 
ried me  in.  A  lamp  burned  dimly  in  the  gloom, 
and  the  old  clock  ticked  with  painful  distinctness  in 
the  hushed  apartment. 

"  The  nurse  then  raised  me  up,  and  held  me  where  I 
could  look  upon  the  bed.  As  I  looked  down  with  a 
shrinking  fear,  I  beheld  a  pale,  calm  face,  the  eyes 
closed  as  if  in  slumber,  but  oh,  how  still !  A  dread 
crept  over  me  — the  first  startling  knowledge  of  death. 
The  nurse  laid  my  hand  upon  the  cheek  —  'twas  cold 
—  how  cold !  and  as  that  strange  chill  crept  back  to 
my  child-heart,  I  wept.  I  felt  that  something  sad 
and  sorrowful  had  taken  place ;  that  some  one  whom 
I  loved  had  gone  —  some  friend  —  and  the* young  heart 
welled  up  its  flood  of  unchecked  grief.  ...  A 
mother  had  gone  to  her  rest ! 

"  I  remember  but  one  place  with  pleasure  in  that  old 
dwelling.  It  was  where  the  sun  shone  brightly,  and 
the  vines  crept  thickly  over  the  lattice- work.  As  I 
look  back  upon  that  obscure  mirror  of  childhood,  I 
see  a  happy  throng,  and  merry  sport  they  had.  But 
the  most  hallowed  dream  of  all,  is  that  of  a  sad,  kind 
face,  which  hung  over  me  and  touched  mine  so  ten- 
derly. I  ~know  that  she  had  a  low,  silvery  voice,  for 


4:6  MINNIE   HERMON. 

it  fell  soothingly  upon  my  childish  fears  and  pains, 
and  its  tender  echoes  have  never  died  away  in  my 
heart.  I  have  heard  no  such  tones  since,  save  as  they 

float  up  and  linger  on  the  tide  of  memory. The 

voice  of  a  MOTHER  speaks  in  those  echoes  ! 

"  But  how  my  pen  has  wandered  under  the  influence 
of  these  old  memories  !  Ah,  well !  I  have  not  talked 
of  these  things  before  in  long  years,  and  my  old  heart 
yearns  for  sympathy. 

"After  our  settlement  in  the  new  home,  I  became  a 
tall,  thoughtful  boy.  Care  had  written  deep  lines 
upon  my  father's  face,  and  he  said  but  little.  Grief, 
too,  had  furrowed  his  features  deeply,  and  a  silvery 
white  was  fast  mingling  with  his  locks  of  jet  black. 
But  he  was  cold,  stern,  passionless,  unchanging. 

"  I  never  saw  my  father  manifest  the  least  emotion 
but  once.  As  I  entered  the  parlor  one  morning,  he 
was  standing  before  a  portrait  that  I  had  loved  from 
my  childhood.  My  step  aroused  him,  and  as  he 
turned,  I  saw  a  tear  upon  either  cheek.  lie  passed 
out  of  the  room,  and  I  took  his  place  before  the  pic- 
ture, and  stood  looking  dreamily  until  my  own  cheeks 

were  wet  with  tears. 1  wept  before  the  shadow 

of  a  substance  which  had  forever  passed  away. 

"  Bitter  knowledge  came  to  me  as  I  arrived  at  young 
manhood.  My  father  had  been  a  drunkard  ;  rny 
mother  had  been  ill-treated  by  the  husband  of  her 
youth,  and  had  died  broken-hearted.  My  love  for  her 
intensified  as  I  learned  the  painful  history,  and  I 
looked  still  more  fondly  upon  that  picture  in  the  par- 


THE   MANUSCRIPT.  4 

lor,  and  thought  that,  had  I  been  a  man  while  she 
was  living,  I  could  have  been  her  protector. 

"  It  was  by  accident  that  I  learned  this  sad  history 
of  wrong  and  neglect  in  him  whom  I  had  so  loved 
as  my  father.  In  a  drawer  of  old  papers  I  found  a 
letter.  From  a  careless  glance  at  the  commence- 
ment, my  attention  became  riveted,  and  I  read  with 
a  throbbing  heart  until,  through  the  blinding  tears, 
I  saw  at  the  bottom  my  own  mother's  name.  The 
letter  had  evidently  been  written  at  different  dates, 
and  was  blotted  with  tears. 

" '  MY  SISTER  :  —  Crushed  and  broken  beneath  the 
ruins  of  all  my  early  hopes,  I  turn  to  you  to  asjk  youi 
forgiveness,  and  to  pour  into  your  too  kind  bosom 
the  sorrows  that  overwhelm  me.  My  heart  aches — 
aches  with  its  knowledge  of  blighted  hopes,  and  of 
the  fearful  and  bitter  truths  which  have  so  thickly 
come  upon  me :  my  brain  aches  and  turns  almost  to 
madness,  as  the  history  of  a  year  sweeps  over  me. 
Oh,  Martha  !  how  I  long  to  die  —  to  lie  down  in  the 
cold  and  quiet  rest  of  the  grave ! 

"  '  Do  you  remember,  Martha,  the  night  before  I 
was  married,  what  you  said  to  me  a»  we  stood  under 
the  old  elm  in  the  garden  ?  —  and  how  bitterly  I  spoke 
and  repelled  the  warning  you  whispered  to  me  in 
tears  ?  You  would  forgive  me,  I  know  you  would, 
.were  you  to  see  me  now.  My  poor  heart  bleeds  at 
every  pore ;  my  cheek  has  faded  and  fallen  away ; 
B 


4:8  MINNIE   HEKMON. 

and  you  would  not  recognize  in  this  ghastly  wreak 
the  wayward  girl  of  our  dear  old  home. 

"All  is  dark.  Not  a  ray  of  hope  on  earth.  I  weep 
over  my  sleeping  babes  ;  but  I  must  die.  God  pro- 
tect them. 

.     .     .     "  '  That  bright  future,  Martha,  is  all  gloom 

—  black,  black  as  night.  I  have  wept,  and  prayed, 
and  besought.  He  mocks  me.  Great  God  !  Martha, 
he  mocks  me  in  his  drunken  madness!  He  wildly 
laughs  as  I  weep.  To-day,  I  held  our  babe  to  him 
for  a  caress ;  he  cruelly  struck  the  innocent  sleeper 
with  his  hand ! 

"  '  I  am  dying,  Martha !  Do  not  weep  ;  I  long  for 
rest.  God  will  protect  my  babe.  The  consumption 
of  sorrow  and  suffering  is  wasting  my  weary  heart. 

" '  Our  neighbors  are  kind,  or  we  should  suffer. 
Your  ever  kind  heart  will  bleed  when  you  know  that 
the  daughter  of  Colonel  Wilder  is  in  want.  But  I 
tell  it  to  warn  you.  Never,  as  you  hope  for  peace  on 
earth,  trust  the  man  who  drinks. 

"  '  Frederick  appears  utterly  indifferent.  He 
spends  his  nights  principally  at  the  tavern,  and  is 
sullen  when  at  home.  Oh,  it  is  hard  to  die  thus.  .  . 
My  cup  overflows.  Would  to  God  that  I  had  died 
when  my  mother  died  !  Frederick  came  in  this  eve- 
ning at  the  earnest  appeal  of  our  friends.  How 
changed  Jie  is,  as  well  as  myself!  He  spoke  bitterly 
to  ine,  and  demanded  my  wedding  jewels  —  he  had 


THE    MANUSCRIPT.  4:9 

gambled,  and  lost !  He  attempted  to  take  the  beau- 
tiful Bible  our  mother  gave  me,  and  as  I  lay  my  hand 
upon  it  in  mute  appeal,  he  —  ob,  Martha !  —  he  struck 
me  a  heavy  blow.  ....  Consciousness  has  re 
turned,  and  the  Bible  is  gone !  .  .  .  I  shall  di 

to-night.     God  protect  the  boy 

"  '  ELLEN.' 

"  I  mingled  my  own  bitter  tears  with  those  that  had 
long  since  become  dry  upon  the  blotted  page,  and 
went  forth  into  the  world  with  my  boy-bosom  throb- 
bing with  the  hate  of  manhood  against  the  curse  which 
had  killed  my  mother." 


CHAPTER    III. 

MINNIE   HERMON, 

"  FOR  a  longtime  after  removing  to  Oakvale,  I  found 
no  kindred  spirit  with  which  to  commune.  My 
father  was  reserved,  seldom  smiled,  or  addressed  a 
pleasant  word  to  his  only  child. 

"  My  young  and  impetuous  nature  must  find  employ- 
ment in  hunting.  Day  after  day  for  weeks  at  a  time, 
with  fishing  rod  or  gun,  I  ranged  the  dense  forests 
which  stretched  away  for  miles  in  the  immediate  vi- 
cinity of  Oakvale.  I  had  found  every  overhanging 
crag,  every  waterfall  and  dark  ravine,  and  threaded 
every  stream.  Thus  engaged,  I  had  not  noticed  the 
arrival  of  strangers  in  the  village,  and  should  have 
cared  but  little  if  I  had. 

"  The  winter  somewhat  restrained  my  sports,  but, 
with  the  early  spring,  I  was  abroad  again  with  dog 
and  gun.  Immediately  back  of  Oakvale  was  a  moun- 
tain stream,  which  plunged  down  a  succession  of  falls 
into  a  deep,  dark  chasm,  and  rolled  away  through 
t!:e  valley.  Recent  rains  had  raised  it  to  a  swollen 
and  angry  tide,  the  cascades  presenting  one  unbroken 
sheet  of  spray  and  foam.  Nearly  half  way  up  tho 
first  fall  was  a  wide,  projecting  mass  of  rock,  over- 
hanging the  abyss  so  far  that  the  spectator  coiud  ob- 
tain a  complete  view  of  the  whole  gorge  above,  un- 


IffifNIE   HERMON.  51 

obstructed  by  the  dense  growth  of  overhanging  spruce. 
The  path  to  this  landing  place  was  through  a  wide 
fissure  in  the  rocks,  the  rugged  masses  and  dark  ever- 
greens rising  upon  either  side  until  the  sunbean.s 
were  shut  entirely  out.  From  this  opening  a  circui 
tous  and  narrow  path  wound  to  the  foot  of  the 
mountain. 

"  From  early  morn  until  late  in  the  afternoon,  I  had 
followed  a  deer  with  ill  success.  Thrice  had  he  taken 
to  the  river,  across  which  I  had  followed  him,  until  I 
was  wet,  weary  and  hungry.  The  dog  did  not  close 
up  with  rigor,  or  the  sport  might  have  been  soon 
ended.  The  deer  at  last  crossed  through  the  village 
and  entered  the  river  at  the  base  of  the  mountain. 
Unleashing  a  fresh  dog  at  home,  I  took  the  ferry  and 
followed,  sure  of  soon  putting  an  end  to  the  work. 
The  dog  drove  the  chase  so  closely  that  he  entered 
the  path  to  the  table  rock,  and  struggled  with  despe- 
rate vigor  up  the  steep  ascent.  As  he  entered  the 
rocky  path  I  felt  sure  of  him,  for  there  was  no  egress 
but  into  the  foaming  basin  beneath. 

"  The  more  rapid  baying  of  the  hound  put  new  vigor 
into  my  wreary  steps,  and  I  hurried  forward.  Enter- 
ing the  defile,  I  found  the  stag  at  bay,  and  the  dog 
vainly  attempting  to  reach  him.  Beyond  and  immer 
diately  upon  the  tall  rock,  over  the  chasm,  was  an 
apparition,  so  unexpected  and  startling,  that  my  steps 
were  fastened  to  the  rock,  and  I  looked  in  utter  be- 
wilderment, scarcely  knowing  whether  it  was  real  or 
imaginary.  Slightly  leaning  forward,  with  hands 


52  MINNIE   HERMON. 

clasped  and  lips  parted,  and  with  a  countenance  of 
deathly  paleness,  stood  the  loveliest  female  figure  I 
had  ever  beheld.  She  was  beautiful  in  her  terror  — 
her  hair  hanging  in  heavy  masses  as  it  had  fallen  from 
its  fastenings  upon  her  exquisitely  arched  neck.  A 
noble  Newfoundland  stood  bristling  and  growling  be- 
fore her.  At  the  instant  the  old  dog  came  up,  and 
with  a  fierce  yell  sprang  at  the  stag,  the  latter  turn- 
ing upon  his  heels  like  lightning,  and  darting  for  the 
rock  where  the  female  stood. 

"  '  Down — down  on  your  face  ! '  I  screamed  ;  but 
he  lowered  his  antlers,  and,  like  an  arrow,  shot  over 
into  the  boiling  gulf,  carrying  stranger,  dogs,  and  all 
with  him.  A  shriek  carne  up  distinctly  above  the 
roar  of  the  waters,  and  I  reached  out  to  grasp  the  rock 
for  support.  As  quickly  I  became  strangely  calm 
again,  and  rushed  to  the  brink  with  a  sickening  sen- 
sation. My  own  dog  and  the  deer  were  swimming 
in  company  down  the  swift  current,  but  the  New- 
foundler,  with  the  shoulders  of  his  insensible  mistress 
in  his  grasp,  was  swimming  about  as  if  at  a  loss 
where  to  strike  out.  Leaning  over  the  rock,  I  swung 
my  hat  and  shouted  until  the  dog  heard  me,  and  with 
little  hope  of  being  understood,  I  urged  him  down  the 
stream.  The  noble  brute  understood  me,  and  struck 
out  into  the  current.  Reckless  of  life  or  limb,  1 
turned  and  ran  to  the  foot  of  the  precipice,  reaching 
the  bend  in  the  river  just  as  the  nearly  exhausted 
dog  and  his  burden  swept  around  the  point.  lie  had 
exhausted  himself  in  stemming  the  tide  in  the  attempt 


MINNIE   I-IEEMON.  53 

to  reach  the  shore ;  and  as  he  shot  past,  he  turned 
upon  me  an  eye  whose  strangely  sad  intelligence 
spoke  mutely  the  language  of  despair.  Leaping  into 
the  current,  I  struck  out,  and  soon  reached  the  dog 
and  his  prize,  and  after  beating  the  current  until 
nearly  despairing,  succeeded  in  reaching  the  shore. 

"  It  was  a  long  time  before  life  leturn^d  to  the  insen- 
sible form  of  the  beautiful  stranger ;  but  she  was  a 
prize  worth  saving !  She  was  the  only  child  of  a 
middle-aged  man,  who  had  just  moved  into  the  vil- 
lage, with  the  remains  of  a  broken  fortune.  Her  his- 
tory had  been  a  sad  one,  as  had  mine  ;  and  our  spirits, 
kindred  in  misfortunes,  craved  each  other's  compan- 
ionship. 

"  A  dark  tempter  had  wrought  the  ruin  of  Mr.  Her- 
mon,  and  his  wife  had  gone  to  her  grave  in  the 
midst  of  the  desolation.  But  like  a  star  gleaming 
above  the  clouds  of  the  storm,  was  the  faith  and  de- 
votion of  the  daughter. 

"  Minnie  Herman  was  just  budding  into  woman- 
hood, and  one  of  the  most  beautiful  creatures  of 
female  purity  and  loveliness  it  had  ever  been  my  for- 
tune to  become  acquainted  with.  She  was  as  gentle 
as  a  midsummer's  breath,  and  as  pure  and  lovely  as 
that  midsummer's  flowers :  and  yet,  she  was  a  rock 
amid  the  wrecked  fortunes  of  her  father.  Her  spirit 
stood  proudly  up,  and  with  that  strange  energy  pecu- 
liar to  woman  under  such  circumstances,  looked 
calmly  upon  the  storm,  while  the  spirit  of  the  strong 
man  bowed  to  the  earth. 


54:  MINNIE   HEEMON. 

*'  Minnie  possessed  every  virtue  which  sheds  a  lustre 
upon  the  character  ot  woman.  She  was  not  wild  or 
wayward;  —  a  tinge  of  sadness  mingled  with  tho 
lovely  calmness  of  her  countenance ;  her  very  motion, 
and  look,  and  tone,  were  calm,  falling  upon  all  around 
like  mellow  sunlight.  All  loved  Minnie  Ilermon. 

"  I  loved  her  with  the  intense,  idolatrous  devotion  of 
youth.  Onr  natures  were  similar  ;  our  histories,  too, 
were  much  the  same  ;  and  a  feeling  of  common  sym- 
pathy seemed  to  draw  our  hearts  into  closer  com- 
munion the  more  we  learned  of  each  other's  history. 
Each  turned  with  sadness  from  the  past,  for  we  both 
had  a  drunken  father,  and  both  had  lost  a  mother. 

"  We  were  happy.  The  old  woods  stretched  down 
the  mountain  side  to  the  outskirts  of  the  village ; 
streams  leaped  and  danced  to  the  valley's  bed,  and 
then  babbled  onward  to  the  river.  Many  a  wild 
nook  was  hidden  among  the  mountains,  and  there  we 
rambled  and  dreamed,  with  nature  around  us. 

"  Not  a  word  had  ever  passed  our  lips  of  love  ;  and 
yet  each  heart  knew  all.  Even  as  we  watched  the 
gliding  streams,  or  the  sunlight  as  it  faded  out  over 
the  hills,  hearts  conversed  while  lips  moved  not ;  and 
the  warp  and  woof  of  a  holy  tie  were  weaving  into 
our  destinies. 

"  Minnie  was  no  ordinary  woman.  Her  mind  had 
suffered  nothing  from  the  education  of  so  called  fash- 
ionable life  :  its  native  —  in  some  respects  more  than 
masculine  —  strength  was  unimpaired.  The  circ  im- 
gtances  of  her  father's  fail  ure  had  brought  out  all  the 


MINNIE  AND  WALTER. 


MINNIE   HEEMON.  57 

energies  of  her  character,  by  throwing  her  back  upon 
her  own  resources.  She  had  improved  all  her  advan- 
tages, and  still  retained  the  original  nobleness  and 
purity  of  her  nature. 

"  And  thus  we  spent  some  of  our  brightest  years., 
dreaming  together  as  we  watched  the  drifting  of  the 
summer  clouds,  which  were  mirrored  in  the  bosom 
of  the  lake  which  slept  among  the  hills. 

"  Dreams  are  like  clouds !  —  a  cloud  was  drifting 
yvei  our  sky,  surcharged  with  a  bitter  storm." 

B*  8 


CHAPTER   IT. 

A  NEW  PROJECT. 

"  THE  business  of  the  little  village  was  increasing, 
and  it  was  talked  of  that  the  little  community  needed 
a  tavern  :  its  business  interests  required  such  an  '  ac- 
commodation,' it  was  thought.  And  so  the  matter 
was  gravely  discussed  ;  and  as  Mr.  Hermon  seemed 
to  be  best  located  for  the  accommodation  of '  the  pub- 
lic,' he  was  urged  to  open  a  tavern.  Of  course  rum 
must  be  sold ;  for,  at  that  day,  a  tavern  could  not 
have  been  kept  without  it.  That  fatal  idea  has  filled 
a  world  with  dead  men's  bones. 

"  I  had  not  yet  heard  of  the  project  on  foot.  On 
entering  the  dwelling  of  Ilermon  one  evening,  I  found 
Minnie  in  tears.  Her  eyes  were  red  and  swollen  with 
weeping,  and  long,  convulsive  sobs  were  struggling 
for  utterance.  I  was  startled,  but  soon  learned  the 
cause  of  her  trouble,  for  she  told  me  all. 

"  The  remembrance  of  the  past  swept  over  her  like 
the  shadow  of  gloom,  and  she  shrank  from  the  dark- 
ened future.  Her  father  had  that  evening  informed 
her  of  the  new  project,  and  of  his  determination  to 
carry  it  out. 

"  I  saw  it  all  at  a  glance.  I  not  only  saw  the  troub- 
les which  were  thickening  over  the  head  of  Minnie, 


A  NEW   PROJECT.  59 

but  felt  their  malign  influence  sweeping  across  my 
own  sky.  A  presentiment  of  swift-coming  evil  dark- 
ened in  the  heart,  as  my  mind  dwelt  with  painful  in- 
tensity upon  the  history  of  my  own  mother  and  her 
unhappy  death. 

"At  the  close  of  the  last  section,  I  spoke  to  the  read- 
er of  a  cloud  which  was  fast  drifting  across  the  sky 
of  Minnie  Ilermon  and  myself.  I  had  no  definite 
conception  of  what  that  cloud  would  be,  yet  a  feel- 
ing of  dread  came  over  me.  I  felt  its  approach.  Ite 
shadow  seemed  to  fall  into  my  pathway,  and  I  looked 
for  the  coming  of  some  bitter  trouble.  I  always  be- 
lieved in  presentiments,  and  the  darkest  one  of  my 
life  warned  me  of  some  approaching  trial. 

"At  the  close  of  a  spring  day,  I  wandered  up  the 
mountain  to  the  accustomed  retreat ;  but  the  golden 
sunbeams  faded  out  one  by  one,  and  Minnie  came  not. 
That  same  foreboding  of  evil  came  over  me  again, 
until  the  music  of  the  waterfall  murmured  with  a  tone 
of  sadness,  and  the  low  breathings  of  the  old  forest 
were  like  sighs  in  the  evening  breeze. 

"  I  returned  to  the  village  and  sought  the  residence 
of  Mr.  Hermon.  I  found  him  in  company  with  my 
father  and  several  other  of  the  more  prominent  citi- 
zens of  the  place,  busily  discussing  some  matter  in  the 
parlor. 

"  '  It  will  be  worth  a  hundred  dollars  a  year  to  the 
place,'  remarked  our  merchant,  as  I  entered. 

"  'And  besides,  be  a  great  accommodation  to  the 
traveling  public,'  continued  Deacon  Smith. 


60  MINNIE   HEE3ION. 

"  'It  will  bring  a  great  deal  of  business  to  the  place,3 
lisped  a  young  lawyer,  who  had  just  hung  out  his 
shingle  in  the  village. 

"  '  Not  only  that,  but  it  will  make  business  right 
here  amongst  us,'  said  the  doctor,  a  man.  of  much 
talent,  and  beloved  by  all  with  whom  he  associated. 

"  '  We  can  then  hold  our  general  parades  here,'  re- 
marked Colonel  James,  and  his  eyes  twinkled  at  the 
idea  of  his  appearance  in  epaulettes  in  his  own  com- 
munity. 

"  '  Farmers  from  the  country  will  always  find  it  a 
convenient  stopping-place  to  stop  when  here  to  trade, 
or  to  get  their  milling  done,'  said  a  young  farmer  of 
wealth,  who  lived  some  three  miles  out  of  the  village. 

" '  The  thing  will  give  us  a  reputation  abroad,'  con- 
tinued my  father,  as  the  party  all  left  to  continue  the 
discussion  of  this  new  plan  at  the  store. 

"  "What  this  new  project  might  be,  which  met  witi 
euch  cordial  approbation  from  the  leading  men  in  the 
village,  I  had  not  learned. 

"As  the  company  passed  out,  Minnie  entered  the 
room  from  an  opposite  direction.  She  met  my  usual 
greeting  with  a  strange  and  embarrassing  silence.  1 
urged  her  to  explain,  when  she  only  answered  with  a 
fresh  burst  of  grief. 

"  She  wept  herself  into  calmness,  and  then  revealed 
to  me  the  cause  of  her  sorrows. 

"The  subject  of  the  discussion  in  the  parlor  was  ex- 
plained, and  I  at  once  saw  the  nature  of  the  cloud 
which  hung  ominously  in  our  sky.  A  faint,  sickening 


A   NEW   PROJECT.  61 

sensation  crept  to  my  heart  while  I  listened  to  the 
footfalls  of  the  tempter  which  was  to  transform  our 
Eden  into  a  realm  of  darkness.  That  tempter  as- 
sumed no  definite  shape  to  my  inexperienced  mind. 
I  saw  nothing  clearly,  but  yet  I  shuddered  at  Minnie's 
revelation.  A  low  hiss  murmured  upon  my  ear,  and 
a  sound  of  demoniac  laughter  audibly  started  me 
from  my  chair.  I  involuntarily  turned,  but  nothing 
but  the  pure  moonlight  beamed  in  at  the  window. 

"  Why  is  it  that  the  approach  of  some  evil  is  so 
etartingly  foreshadowed? 

"A  TAVERN  was  to  be  opened  in  the  village.  This 
was  the  new  project,  and  its  necessity  was  urged  by 
nearly  all  the  inhabitants,  in  such  kind  of  reasoning 
as  was  heard  at  the  house  of  Hermon.  A  public 
house  was  needed,  said  such  people,  and  as  Mr.  Her- 
mon was  the  best  situated  to  open  one,  his  house  was 
hit  upon  for  the  tavern.  Though  I  spoke  words  of 
cheer  to  Minnie,  she  could  not  smile,  and  there  was  a 
weight  at  my  own.  heart,  which  gave  the  lie  as  they 
fell.  She  looked  upon  the  project  as  the  very  foun- 
tain head  of  unutterable  woe  to  her  and  hers.  I  re- 
marked, against  my  own  convictions,  that  all  might 
be  well,  but  she  solemnly  answered  : 

"  l  Walter,  you  do  not  know  all  that  I  know  of  these 
taverns.  I  have  seen  my  father  leave  his  home  and 
spend  his  time  and  money  there,  in  the  dead  of  win- 
ter, and  poverty  and  want  close  around  our  hearth- 
side,  until  my  own  sunny  childhood  has  been 
crushed,  and  the  mother  of  my  idolatry  grew  pale 


62  MINNIE   IIEEMON. 

and  emaciated  for  the  want  of  fuel  and  bread !  Oh, 
God  !  it  is  horrible  to  think  of.  I  could  have  coined 
my  young  blood  to  have  warmed  and  fed  —  to  have 
saved  her.  I  saw  her  thin  and  staggering  form  felled 
to  the  hearth  by  —  my  father's  hand!  Do  you  see 
this  ? '  and  she  pointed  to  a  broad  scar  on  the  back 
of  her  head.  '  The  same  hand  and  the  same  weapon 
laid  me  senseless  as  I  raised  my  child-hands  to  save 
my  mother.  And  yet,  a  kinder  father  or  happier 
home  child  never  knew,  than  I  once  had.  My  heart 
burns  within  me  until  I  well-nigh  go  mad,  as  the  deep- 
rooted  hatred  against  the  cause  of  all  our  misery  is 
aroused  anew  at  the  mention  of  a  tavern.  I  have 
starved,  "Walter —  aye  —  starved  for  the  want  of  bread. 
I  have  waded  the  cold  winter  drifts  until  my  very 
heart  was  chilled  to  its  centre,  and  then  been  laughed 
at  by  the  crowd  assembled.  Pinched  with  cold  and 
hunger,  I  have  begged  for  a  wasting  mother.  That 
mother  died  in  a  hovel,  and  was  buried  as  a  pauper, 
— the  very  fingers  of  death  robbed  of  a  wedding-ring 
wherewith  to  purchase  rum  !  The  .tavern  did  it  all. 
May  God's  curse  rest  upon  them  ! ' 

"  Minnie  bowed  her  face  in  her  hands,  and  wept 
long  and  bitterly.  I  thought  of  my  own  mother,  and 
of  the  letter  which  so  fearfully  revealed  her  sad  his- 
tory, and  mingled  my  own  tears  with  hers. 

"  Late  at  night,  I  returned  with  a  heavy  heart  to 
my  father's  house. 

"  The  next  morning,  I  asked  my  father  what  it  was 
which  he  and  his  friends  were  so  earnestly  talking 


A  NEW    PROJECT.  63 

about  at  Mr.  Hermon's.  There  was  a  slight  flush 
upon  his  cheek  as  he  looked  me  in  the  eye,  and  ab- 
ruptly answered, 

"  'A  tavern,  sir  ! J 

"  That  '  sir,'  stung  me.  The  tone  and  the  look  were 
somewhat  startling.  I  at  once  saw  that  it  was  a  mat- 
ter which  he  did  not  wish  to  talk  with  me  about ;  but 
I  became  emboldened,  and  determined  to  discounte- 
nance the  project,  though  all  the  magnates  of  the  vil- 
lage should  favor  it.  I  spoke  confusedly,  yet  with  all 
the  impetuous  earnestness  of  youth.  I  felt  that  I  was 
right.  I  dared  to  denounce  taverns  as  a  curse  —  as 
places  wliere  men  were  made  to  neglect  and  abuse 
their  own  families  and  disgrace  themselves. 

"  I  had  unthinkingly  touched  a  tender  spot,  and  his 
black  eye  kindled  and  flashed  as  he  bent  his  full  gaze 
upon  me.  There  was  a  paleness  about  his  lips,  and 
he  breathed  huskily  through  his  clenched  teeth,  while 
a  bitter  and  scornful  smile  gave  his  countenance  a 
dark  and  forbidding  outline.  I  knew  he  was  deeply 
angered,  yet  feared  him  not.  At  any  other  time,  I 
should  have  shrunk  from  such  portents,  but  my  young 
blood  was  up  at  his  menacing  appearance,  and  some 
mysterious  influence  unclosed  a  torrent  of  warm 
words  from  my  lips.  I  followed  up  my  blows,  he 
glaring  at  me,  and  his  broad  bosom  heaving  under 
excitement. 

"  '•Boy  ! '  at  last  he  fiercely  hissed  between  his  hard- 
set  teeth  as  his  rage  found  vent  in  words,  '•Boy  !  no 
more  out  of  your  head.  I'll  not  be  thus  outraged  by 


64  MINNIE   HEEMON. 

your  impudence.    I  can  attend  to  yours.     Go,  sir, 
your  presence  can  be  dispensed  with.' 

"  He  literally  stamped  and  chafed,  but  while  he 
boiled  with  passion,  I  became  perfectly  cool.  I  con- 
fess that  there  was  something  of  revenge  in  my  cool- 
ness. The  letter  of  my  mother  came  up  before  me, 
and  every  word  glowed  like  hot  lava  in  my  blood  and 
burned  upon  my  tongue's  end.  A  pent-up  tide  of 
bitterness  against  my  father  gushed  fiercely  up,  and 
I  eagerly  availed  myself  of  the  opportunity  of  re- 
vealing the  knowledge  I  had  so  painfully  acquired, 
of  intemperance,  and  its  fatal  effects  upon  my  mother. 
He  had  not  dreamed  of  such  knowledge  on  my  part, 
and  readily  supposed  that  I  knew  more  of  his  early 
course  than  I  really  did.  My  unguarded  and  hot  words 
etung  him  like  serpents,  and  he  grew  purple  with 
rage.  "Walking  menacingly  up  to  where  I  stood,  he 
raised  his  clenched  hand,  and  with  a  fearful  oath  or- 
dered me  to  be  gone. 

"  '-Leave  the  room,  you  young  reptile,'  he  fiercely 
said,  his  hand  still  raised.  The  blow  which  fell  years 
ago  upon  the  dying  mother,  blistered  upon  my  own 
cheek,  and  I  fearlessly  retorted  while  looking  him  full 
in  the  face, 

Ul  Strike!  the  hand  that  basely  crushed  a  broken 
li carted  mother,  would  have  little  hesitation  in  striking 
the  child.' 

"  My  father's  face  grew  livid  as  I  deliberately  pro- 
nounced the  words,  and  instead  of  striking  me,  as  I 
expected  he  would,  he  turned  away  like  a  drunken 


A   NEW   PROJECT.  65 

man,  and  reseated  himself  in  his  chair.  I  left  the 
room,  regretting  the  harsh  words  I  had  spoken,  and 
yet  not  altogether  displeased  with  the  effect  they  evi- 
dently produced  upon  him. 

"  Ever  after,  in  our  conversation,  my  father  treated 
me  with  marked  coolness  and  reserve.  I  was  grieved 
at  this,  for  I  felt  that  from  ray  heart  I  wished  his  own 
good  in  what  I  had  said  of  a  mother.  Oh,  if  I  could 
at  that  time  have  enjoyed  the  light  of  that  world- wide 
flame  which  has  since  been  kindled  upon  the  temper- 
ance altar,  I  feel  that  I  could  have  headed-off  the  new 
proj  ect. 

"  I  freely  and  frankly  told  Minnie  of  the  conversa- 
tion which  had  passed  between  my  father  and  myself. 

"  '  We  are  doomed,'  said  she,  in  reply.  '  I  have 
warned  father.  I  have  reminded  him  of  the  promise 
—  the  sacred  and  solemn  vow  he  made  at  the  bedside 
of  my  dying  mother,  as  she  placed  my  childish  hands 
in  his — never  to  visit  a  tavern,  or  drink  again.  I  told 
him  of  that  mother's  sufferings  —  of  my  own  —  of 
his  fearful  fall,  and  long  and  dark  pilgrimage  of  deg- 
radation. I  knelt  to  him  and  wet  his  hands  with  my 
tears  as  I  wept  in  the  fullness  of  my  grief,  and  be- 
sought him  by  all  that  was  dark  in  the  past,  com- 
fortable in  the  present,  and  blissful  in  the  future,  to 
abandon  the  tavern  project.  But,  Walter,  I  have  no 
hope  that  he  will,  and  I  fear  that  my  poor  heart  has 
hardly  tasted  the  bitterness  yet  to  come.  I  can  al- 
ready see  the  result  of  this — he  is  determined.  The 
tear  that  for  a  moment  gathered  in  his  eye,  as  I  spoke 


C6  MINNIE   IIERMON. 

of  my  sainted  mother  in  heaven,  was  chased  away  by 
a  flash  of  untamed  passion,  and  he  rudely  bade  me 
desist.  Walter,  the  accursed  work  has  already  com- 
menced! I  learned  that  he  had  been  then  drinking, 
and  I  have  since  found  a  bottle  hidden  away  in  tho 
closet !  God  pity  me ! ' 

"  The  truth  flashed  upon  me  ;  — my  own  father  had 
been  drinking  at  the  time  he  exhibited  such  passion. 
I  had  not  dreamed  that  it  was  rum  instead  of  rage 
which  caused  him  to  reel  as  he  turned  away  from  me 
that  morning.  Our  merchant  kept  liquors  for  medi- 
cinal purposes,  and  it  was  there  where  the  damning 
fires  of  intemperance  had  been  covertly  kindled  anew. 

"  I  now  felt  myself  older  by  years,  than  a  few  days. 
Age  had  crept  into  my  young  heart,  and  chased  the 
smile  from  my  countenance.  I  felt  that  I  stood  in  the 
position  of  a  protector  to  Minnie,  for  our  whole  com- 
munity were  enlisted  for  the  new  tavern.  I  felt  the 
full  baptism  of  manhood  come  upon  me,  and  spoke 
boldly  and  frankly  to  her  of  love,  and  offered  my 
hand  in  marriage.  She  laid  her  hand  in  mine,  and 
with  all  the  wealth  of  her  deep  and  pure  affection, 
returned  mine.  I  urged  her  to  an  immediate  union, 
and  thus  joined,  to  seek  a  retreat  of  our  own,  and  to- 
gether meet  and  turn  aside  the  storm  which  was  ga 
thering  around  us.  But  she  would  not  yet  consent 
She  said  she  was  the  only  kin  of  her  father,  an< 
could  not  consent  to  leave  him  alone  and  unwatci  e  . 
over  in  the  troubles  which  were  evidently  conmu 
upon  him. 


A  NEW   PROJECT.  67 

"'Ko,  Walter,  do  not  urge  me.  My  love  would 
lead  me"  with  you  to  the  ends  of  the  earth,  and 
through  any  trial,  but  it  seems  to  me  that  duty  says, 
stay.  I  fear  the  worst ;  and  if  my  father  again  falls 
into  that  fearful  abyss,  who  will  care  for  him  if  I  do 
not?  I  know  all  you  would  say  of  his  past  negli- 
gence— nay,  cruelty —  but  should  I  leave  him  while 
there  is  a  single  hope  ?  It  may  be  that  I  can  save 
him.  At  any  rate,  if  I  cannot  stay  the  cloud  whose 
shadow  already  falls  so  darkly  around  us,  I  can  cling 
to  him  when  it  bursts.' 

"  My  youthful  earnestness  —  my  strong  love  of 
Minnie,  grew  impatient  under  such  reasoning  ;  but 
she  was  firm,  and  I  loved  her  the  more  as  I  witnessed 
her  deep  and  changeless  devotion  to  the  welfare  of 
her  father.  It  revealed  still  more  of  that  angelic 
worth  which  had  bound  me  so  closely  to  the  unassu- 
ming girl.  Her  heroic  spirit  gave  me  nerve,  and  I 
left  her  with  a  stronger  reliance  upon  my  own  man 
hood,  to  meet  whatever  of  ill  might  be  in  store  for 
me." 


CHAPTER   f . 

THE  SPELL   BROKEN EVIL   COUNSELS   PREVAIL. 

"  THE  people  were  infatuated  with  the  new  project. 
The  remonstrances  of  Minnie  and  myself  were  but 
the  feather's  weight  against  the  determination  of  the 
leading  men  of  the  community.  I  was  looked  upon 
as  a  meddlesome,  impertinent  young  fellow,  and  she 
as  a  silly  girl,  whose  feelings  in  the  matter  were  in- 
fluenced by  me.  The  place  demanded  a  public  house, 
and  the  traveling  public  could  not  be  accommodated 
without  one.  The  tavern  must  be  opened.  * 

"Minnie  avowed  her  determination  once  more  to  at- 
tempt to  persuade  her  father  to  abandon  the  project 
of  opening  the  tavern. 

"  Late  one  evening,  Mr.  Hermon  sat  by  the  parlor 
window,  looking  dreamily  out  upon  the  landscape 
which  lay  like  a  fairy  realm  under  its  wealth  of  moon- 
beams. Clear  and  calm,  its  smile  stole  silently  in 
upon  the  carpet,  and  lingered  like  the  messenger  of 
innocence  and  purity  upon  the  feverish  cheek  of  the 
old  man.  "With  as  noiseless  a  step,  the  lights  and  the 
shadows  of  other  days  lay  mingled  in  the  heart.  The 
holy  beauty  and  the  associations  of  the  hour  were 
weaving  a  spell  over  the  heavings  of  a  troubled  spirit, 
and  the  old  man  looked  upward.  Minnie  well  under- 
stood the  wayward  moods  of  her  father,  and  knew,  as 


THE   SPELL  BROKEN.  69 

she  had  watched  him  from  her  seat  upon  the  sofa,  that 
his  better  nature  was  uppermost.  With  a  gentle 
touch  she  swept  the  strings  of  her  harp,  her  soul  vi- 
brating in  every  tone  as  she  bowed  over  the  instru- 
ment and  wept.  It  had  been  her  mother's  harp,  and 
the  air  was  a  favorite  one  of  hers ;  its  touching  sweet- 
ness often  banishing  the  frown  from  her  father's  brow, 
and  melting  his  stern  nature  to  tenderness. 

"  A  tear  glittered  a  moment  on  the  cheek  of  Her- 
mon,  though  brushed  hastily  away.  But  Minnie  saw 
it,  and,  uniting  her  voice  with  the  harp,  she  gave  the 
words  of  the  familiar  hymn  with  all  the  sad  fervor 
which  her  heart  could  feel.  There  was  a  tear  in  her 
tones,  and  they  mingled  like  the  low  sweep  of  an  an- 
gel's wing  upon  the  stillness  around.  Hermon  bowed 
his  face  ere  the  last  words  had  died  away.  That 
hymn  had  opened  the  fountain  of  a  thousand  memo- 
ries, and  he  could  not  but  weep. 

"  With  a  beating  heart,  Minnie  stole  across  the  room 
and  kneeled  at  her  father's  feet,  weaving  her  arms 
around  his  knees  and  looking  up  in  his  face. 

"  *  My  own  dear  father !  here,  upon  my  knees,  I  need 
not  tell  you  how  much  I  love  you.  Ton  know  that 
no  fortune  can  drive  me  from  you.  In  the  dark  past 
I  have  clung  more  closely,  as  every  other  friend  de- 
serted. Father !  look  upon  your  only  kin.  As  you 
love  me  —  my  sainted  mother  who  smiles  upon  us  to- 
night, —  as  you  love  yourself  and  Heaven,  tell  me 
now  that  you  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  this  tavern 
business.  Will  you  not,  my  father  ? '  And  the 


10  MINNIE   HERMON. 

pleading  girl  caught  his  hand,  and  warmed  it  with 
her  tears.  Emotion  stirred  the  strong  man  as  he  felt 
the  pure  gush  upon  his  parched  hand,  and  his  heart 
was  moved  to  say  as  she  wished.  The  dark  tempter 
was  weakened  in  that  bitter  hour,  and  before  the 
daughter's  pleading;  but  yet  the  fearful  bonds  were 
upon  him.  The  large  drops  stood  out  upon  his  fore- 
head, and  Hermon  would  have  joyed  to  have  escaped 
the  toils  which  were  weaving  around  him. 

" '  But  I  have  promised,  my  child,'  at  last  said  her 
father,  hesitatingly. 

" '  God  help  you  to  break  that  promise ! '  fervently 
replied  Minnie.  '  Happiness  and  Heaven  are  worth 
more  than  faith  kept  with  wrong.  I  need  not  tell 
you  all  that  I  feel,  father ;  but  bitter  wo  is  upon  us 
if  you  keep  the  promise.  As  you  promised  my  moth- 
er, so  promise  me  this  night,  and  we  will  still  be 
happy.  Will  you  not?' 

"Minnie  had  arisen,  and  was  imprinting  a  kiss  on 
the  old  man's  cheek,  when  footsteps  were  heard  in 
the  hall.  My  father  and  Deacon  McGnrr  wished  to 
epeak  with  Mr.  Hermon. 

"  The  holy  spell  was  broken,  and  the  tempter  was 
triumphant.  When  Minnie  again  saw  her  father,  the 
usual  frown  was  upon  his  features,  and  the  fume  of 
mm  was  upon  his  lip.  No  effort  of  hers  could  obtain 
a  word  from  him  in  relation  to  the  matter  sc  pain- 
fully interesting  to  her.  The  next  morning  witnessed 
demonstrations  which  destroyed  all  her  hopes  of  de- 
feating the  plan. 


THE   SPELL  BROKEN.       '  1 

"  The  carpenters  and  masons  were  soon  at  work  re- 
pairing, remodeling,  and  adding  to,  the  dwelling  of 
Mr.  Hermon.  A  '  bar-room  '  was  built  on,  and  the 
upper  story  of  the  main  building  made  into  a  'ball- 
room.' Sheds  and  stables  were  erected  on.  the  beau- 
tiful yard  below  the  dwelling ;  the  bright  and  smooth 
greensward  was  cut  up  with  hoofs  and  wheels,  and 
covered  with  lumber,  and  stone,  and  sand.  The  wide- 
topped  maples,  now  loaded  with  all  the  gorgeous 
wealth  of  their  autumn  garniture  of  gold  and  crimson, 
were  considered  in  the  way  of  '  improvements,'  and 
were  cut  down.  I  watched  the  axe  as  stroke  after  stroke 
eat  to  the  heart's  core,  and  every  blow  hurt  my  own. 
I  had  passed  some  of  the  brightest  hours  of  my  ex- 
istence beneath  their  wide  branches,  and  when  the 
rustling  pyramids  fell  to  the  ground  with  a  sigh,  1 
felt  that  old  friends  had  been  severed  from  the  earth. 
Their  limbless  trunks  were  rudely  dragged  away 
through  the  dirt,  and  the  scattered  leaves  rudely 
trodden  under  foot. 

"  The  dwelling  of  Mr.  Hermon  assumed  an  entire 
new  aspect.  The  sound  of  the  hammer,  the  saw,  and 
the  trowel,  rang  out  through  the  quiet  village,  and 
kept  alive  the  discussion  about  the  tavern.  Citizens 
assembled  at  evening  to  smoke  and  talk  the  matter 
over,  each  suggesting  this  and  that  improvement; 
good  matrons  stopped  from  their  shopping  or  visiting 
to  gaze  over  their  specks  at  the  change,  while  the 
'ball-room'  elicited  the  liveliest  attention  01  the 
'misses.  The  boys  looked  on  with  childish  wonder 


72  MINNIE   IIERMON. 

and  gratification,  and  danced  around  the  blazing  pile 
of  shavings  which  the  carpenters  had  tired  in  the 
street  at  nightfall. 

"  The  tavern  was  soon  completed.  The  *  bar '  was 
nicely  arranged,  and  received  the  unanimous  admira- 
tion of  the  villagers ;  for  all,  as  they  came  in  every 
evening  to  see  how  the  thing  '  got  along,'  had  sugges- 
tions to  make.  A  small  piazza  was  built  in  front  of 
the  bar-room,  and  a  broad  bench  placed  the  entire 
length,  for  the  accommodation  of  customers.  A  new 
cedar  pump  had  been  put  into  the  well,  the  top 
'peaked'  and  painted  white. 

"  The  tavern  awaited  the  furniture.  The  neighbors 
made  a  '  bee '  and  cleared  away  the  rubbish  in  front, 
and  drew  in  gravel  around  the  shed  and  'stoop.'  The 
jug  passed  around  freely  during  the  afternoon,  and 
at  night  a  garrulous  group  gathered  on  the  benches 
under  the  stoop,  and  for  the  hundredth  time  spoke  of 
the  great  benefits  which  were  to  result  from  the  tavern. 

"  A  *  sign '  was  needed  to  announce  the  home  for  the 
traveler.  After  much  consultation  and  suggestion  of 
many  names,  that  of  '  Traveler's  Home  '  was  fixed 
upon.  The  sign  was  soon  completed,  with  scrolls  and 
gilded  spear  points,  and  swung  up  near  the  pump  be- 
twixt two  tall  posts.  On  the  centre  of  the  board,  the 
painter  had  placed  a  beehive,  as  an  emblem  of  indus- 
try and  thrift,  and  beneath,  the  motto,  '  peace  and 
plenty.'  The  sign  made  a  very  neat  appearance,  and 
for  a  few  days  received  the  same  attentions  from  tho 
villagers  as  had  the  other  improvements. 


THE   6PELL  BEOKEN.  73 

"  One  more  arrangement,  and  the  tavern  would  be 
ready  to  go  into  operation.  There  was  a  law  regula- 
ting the  sale  of  liquors  and  the  keeping  of  public 
houses,  allowing  none  but  moral  men  to  engage  in  so 
honorable  and  necessary  an  avocation.  The  tavern 
must  be  legally  kept. 

"  At  that  day,  the  man  who  had  dared  to  intimate 
that  a  tavern  could  be  kept  without  liquor,  would 
have  been  hooted  at  as  a  fool  or  madman.  For  how 
could  travelers  be  entertained  without  '  accommoda- 
tions ? '  The  weary  wayfarer  would  suffer  alternately 
with  heat  and  cold,  if  there  was  nothing  to  '  take.' 
A  man  or  beast  entertained  at  a  public  house  where 
liquors  were  not  sold  ! 

"The  supervisor  and  the  justices  of  the  peace  were 
notified  of  the  completion  of  Mr.  Hermoh's  tavern, 
and  applied  to  as  a  board  of  excise,  for  a  license  to 
keep  it  legally,  or  according  to  law.  That  grave  body 
assembled  the  last  of  October,  for  it  was  important 
that  a  public  house  should  be  Dpened  before  the  fall 
election." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE    "HOME" A   WBONG   REGULATED. 


u 


THE  reader  will  remember  that  we  have  been  in- 
troducing our  characters  upon  the  stage  while  tho 
arrangements  were  completing  for  the  licensing  of 
the  'Traveler's  Home.'  There  are  many  more  actors 
to  be  introduced  before  the  drama  all  passes  before 
the  reader. 

Late  in  the  evening  before  the  day  of  the  meet- 
ing of  the  excise  board,  the  villagers  were  gathered 
on  the  steps  of  the  '  Home,'  or  setting  on  the  benches, 
all  deeply  interested  in  the  success  of  the  new  enter 
prise,  and  calculating  on  the  benefits  to  the  place  by 
a  large  increase  of  business.  Deacon  McGarr,  one 
of  the  justices,  the  supervisor,  and  several  others  of 
the  magnates,  were  conversing  in  a  low  and  earnest 
tone,  of  the  probable  rise  in  the  value  of  the  village 
lots  and  water  privileges.  Conspicuous  above  all  was 
the  village  blacksmith. 

"We  must  give  an  outline  of  *  Jim  Gaston,'  as  thb 
huge  Vulcan  was  familiarly  called  by  his  neighbors, 
as  he  will  again  appear  in  some  of  the  future 
chapters. 

Gaston's  proportions  were  giant-like,  he  being  six 
feet  and  eight  inches  in  height,  and  of  immense  breadth 
of  shoulders  and  strength  of  limb.  His  fist  was  as 


THE  "HOME."  ^5 

large  as  his  own  sledge,  and  calloused  with  industri- 
ous toil.  His  huge  head  was  buried  in  a  dense  un- 
dergrowth of  black,  bushy  hair,  features  coarse  and 
bronzed,  but  pleasant  with  the  smile  of  undeviating 
good  nature.  In  his  broad  bosom  was  as  warm  and 
true  a  heart  as  ever  beat  for  family  or  friend,  and  all 
who  knew  him  respected  him  as  a  genial-hearted, 
hard-working,  honest  man.  "With  all  his  physical 
strength,  Gaston  had  never  been  known  to  have  an 
angry  word  in  his  life,  with  a  customer  or  neighbor. 
On  the  contrary,  he  had  on  several  occasions  prompt- 
ly, though  good-naturedly,  used  his  .strength  in  de- 
fence of  the  weaker  against  the  stronger.  His  own 
broad  smile  and  happy  disposition  were  infectious, 
and,  winter  or  summer,  early  or  late,  his  stentorian 
voice  was  heard,  the  accompaniment  of  his  hammer 
and  anvil. 

Gaston,  in  his  red  flannel  shirt,  his  open  bosom  and 
heavy  neck  and  face  begrimmed  with  smut  from  his 
day's  toil  at  the  forge,  was  cracking  his  good-humored 
jokes,  as  he  sat  on  a  pile  of  lumber  in  front  of  the 
stoop,  and  his  deep  hearty  laugh  rolling  out  from  a 
wide  throat.  He  was  watching  a  merry  group  of 
children  who  were  playing  "  hide  and  seek  "  in  the 
thickening  twilight,  as  happy  as  the  happiest  of  them 
all.  One  pale  and  diminutive  little  fellow  had  nestled 
closely  under  the  massive  legg»of  the  good-natured 
blacksmith,  and  a  larger  one  behind  his  wide  shoul- 
ders. While  the  boy  on  the  "gool"  was  hunting  his 
comrades  under  the  shed,  Gaston  clasped  the  boy  at 


76  MINNIE   HERMON. 

his  back,  and  carelessly  walked  with  him  to  the  gool 
without  suspicion,  and  dropped  him  upon  it.  Ko 
child  laughed  harder  t.ian  he  at  the  little  ruse.  Such 
are  the  outlines  of  "  Jim  Gaston,"  the  blacksmith. 

The  evening  had  well  advanced,  and  Deacon 
McGarr  arose  to  go.  At  that  moment  Ilermon  came 
out  of  the  bar-room,  with  a  glass  and  decanter  in  his 
hand,  and  passed  to  the  end  of  the  stoop  where 
McGarr  was  lingering  and  talking  with  Gaston  a 
moment,  about  some  work  to  be  done  early  in  the 
morning. 

"  Deacon,"  said  Ilermon,  "  I  suppose  there  is  no 
doubt  about  my  having  a  license  to  sell ;  and  as  I  al- 
ready have  my  liquors  on  hand,  perhaps  you  would 
like  to  try  a  glass.  I  rather  pride  myself  on  my 
choice  selection." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  —  what  have  you  in  the  de- 
canter ?  "  and  McGarr's  eye  glistened  as  he  rolled  a 
huge  tobacco  quid  from  his  cheek  into  his  hand  and 
tossed  it  into  the  street,  wiping  his  palm  on  his  pants. 

"  Brandy,  Deacon  —  fourth  proof,  and  as  smooth 
as  oil.  I  can  vouch  for  its  quality,"  and  Ilermon 
poured  a  stiff  horn  into  the  tumbler,  and  handed  it  to 
McGarr. 

Sure  enough,  the  brandy  went  down  like  oil,  and 
McGarr  gave  an  approving  ahem  as  he  wiped  his  lips 
with  the  back  of  his  hand ;  then  planting  his  feet 
well  apart  and  throwing  out  his  capacious  person  with 
a  pompous  swing  as  he  raised  upon  his  toes,  he 
pulled  his  large  tin  tobacco-box  from  his  pocket,  and 


THE  "HOME."  11 

compressing  a  startling  roll  in  his  thumb  and  three  fin- 
gers, twisted  it  into  his  mouth,  and  with  his  tongue 
thrust  it  to  the  accustomed  receptacle  in  the  cheek ; 
then  putting  his  thumbs  in  the  arm-holes  of  his  vest, 
and  sticking  out  his  little  fingers  in  ludicrous  efforts 
to  show  off  his  importance  by  discussing  the  qualities 
of  the  liquor  he  had  drank  at  different  times,  spitting 
dignifiedly,  working  his  little  fingers,  and  swaying 
backwards  and  forwards  alternately  upon  his  toes 
and  heels. 

The  decanter  went  round,  and  all  drinked  of  the 
brandy,  though  the  most  of  them  made  horrible  faces 
as  the  raw  liquid  went  down  their  throats.  Among 
the  latter  was  Gaston  and  the  oldest  son  of  McGarr. 
As  the  unwieldy  blacksmith  strangled  and  gasped 
for  water  and  the  tears  stood  in  his  eyes,  the  older  part 
of  the  company  enjoyed  a  hearty  laugh.  The  matter 
was  more  serious  with  young  McGarr,  and  the  children 
who  remained  were  merry  at  his  tears  and  wry  faces. 

"It  is  nothing  to  laugh  at,"  said  old  McGarr,  evi- 
dently a  little  piqued,  as  he  stroked  his  chin  with  his 
hand ;  "  Harry  is  but  a  mere  boy,  and  has  not  the  ex- 
perience of  older  people." 

The  company  ceased  laughing,  and  young  McGan 
took  courage  and  looked  up,  with  a  boldness  which 
gave  promise  of  speedy  manhood  in  the  matters 
spoken  of.  His  ambition  was  aroused  to  arrive  at 
that  point  where  he  could  swallow  the  dram  as  well 
as  older  men. 

—  A  fatal  ambition. 


78  MINNIE   IIEKMON. 

The  villagers  had  all  departed  to  their  homes,  and 
the  long,  wide  street  was  hushed  and  still.  Not  a 
light  was  to  be  seen,  or  a  footfall  heard.  Thick,  mur- 
ky clouds  had  gathered  around  the  horizon,  and  the 
increasing  night  wind  sighed  dismally  through  the 
branches  of  the  maple  which  had  been  left  standing 
near  the  shed  of  the  "Traveler's  Home." 

From  the  window  of  the  sitting-room  there  now 
came  the  hum  of  voices,  low,  half  whispering  and 
sad,  like  the  falling  of  tear-drops  in  the  stillness  of 
the  night.  It  was  Minnie  Herrnon  and  Walter  Bray- 
ton,  in  sad  communion  upon  the  matter  so  fearfully 
interesting  to  them. 

"  Is  there  no  way,  Walter,  by  which  this  scheme 
can  be  defeated  ?  I  am  as  certain  that  ruin  will  come 
of  it,  as  that  the  morning  will  dawn.  Oh,  were  I  a 
man ! " 

"  What  would  you,  what  could  you  do,  Minnie,  tc 
avert  the  result?  The  house  is  all  arranged,  the 
liquors  are  here,  and  to-morrow  the  board  meets  to 
give  your  father  a  license.  Tell  me." 

Walter  spoke  earnestly  and  sadly,  for  her  words  had 
wounded  him.  Minnie  had  lost  her  resolute  tone,  and 
hung  her  head  as  she  thought  she  had  said  too  much. 

"Pardon  me,  Walter,  for  I  spoke  from  the  strength 
of  feeling  and  not  soberly.  I  don't  know  that  any- 
thing can  be  done.  I  have  plead,  but  it  all  does  no 
good.  I  have  said  all  that  I  dare  to ;  but,  Walter, 
father  is  changed  of  late — he  frowns  and  curses  as 
he  did  when  mother  was  living." 


THE  "HOME."  Y9 

""Well,  Minn.'e,"  said  Brayton,  with  assumed  con- 
fidence, "let  us  hope  fcr  the  best.  I  have  made  up 
my  mind  to  attend  the  meetings  of  the  board  to- 
morrow, and  protest  against  the  matter." 

"  It  will  do  no  good,  "Walter,  they  will  all  bo 
against  you." 

"  No  matter  ;  your  father — they  all  will  be  offend- 
ed, but  they  shall  hear  me,"  and  "Walter  Brayton, 
firm  in  the  strength  of  an  honest  purpose,  raised  him- 
self to  his  full  height,  as  if  eager  to  grapple  with  some 
imaginary  enemy. 

"With  the  sky  overcast  and  the  darkness  around 
them,  Minnie  and  "Walter  whispered  kindly  words  to 
each  other  and  parted.  She  listened  to  his  retreating 
footsteps  and  to  the  sighing  wind,  and  closed  the  door 
with  darkening  thoughts. 

It  had  rained  during  the  night,  enough  to  prevent 
the  farmers  from  attending  their  usual  avocations  on 
the  following  day.  This,  with  the  interest  which  the 
new  tavern  created,  attracted  a  large  number  of  peo- 
ple to  the  village,  and  when  the  hour  came  for  the  as- 
sembling of  the  board,  the  "  Home "  was  thronged. 
The  members  were  proud  of  their  posi  Jons,  and  of 
appearing  before  their  townsmen  on  an  occasion  of 
eo  much  importance,  and  so,  to  make  the  matter  as 
public  as  possible,  they  adjourned  from  the  small  sit- 
ting-room to  the  new  and  capacious  ball  chamber. 
Even  this  room  was  soon  filled,  and  the  benches  by 
the  walls  were  soon  crowded,  and  a  large  number 
standing  in  the  open  space.  JSTo  one  could  correctly 


80  MINNIE   HEEMON. 

determine  what  particular  thing  had  called  the  large 
assembly  together,  but  an  unusual  official  proceeding 
was  to  take  place,  and  the  interest  was  intense.  They 
were  to  see  a  tavern  licensed  ! 

There  was  a  busy  hum  among  the  people,  and  all 
were  anxiously  awaiting  the  commencement  of  the 
proceedings. 

At  last  Deacon  McGarr  took  it  upon  himself  to  walk 
around  behind  the  table,  and  after  looking  wisely 
through  his  spectacles  upon  the  assembly,  proceeded 
to  call  the  board  to  order ;  whereupon  the  other  mem- 
bers modestly  took  their  places  at  the  table.  The 
Bupervisor  was  a  white-haired  old  gentleman  —  an 
honest  and  well-meaning  old  farmer,  but  little  used 
to  public  business.  The  remaining  members  were  of 
the  average  material  selected  in  country  towns  fo* 
such  positions. 

McGarr  was  still  standing,  one  hand  in  his  panta 
loons  pocket  and  the  other  resting  upon  the  back  of 
the  statute,  which  had  occupied  a  conspicuous  place 
before  him,  he  still  looking  solemnly  over  his  specta- 
cles, as  if  to  awe  into  perfect  silence  before  he  pro- 
ceeded farther.  Just  at  this  juncture  there  was  a 
bustle  at  the  door,  and  the  tall  form  of  Colonel  Wes- 
ton  appeared  conspicuous.  McGarr  assumed  a  bland 
smile  and  beckoned  the  Colonel  towards  him,  and 
while  the  wealthy  young  farmer  was  elbowing  his 
way  through  the  crowd,  the  Deacon  had  officially 
driven  some  of  the  smaller  fry  from  their  seats,  and 
secured  a  wide  berth  for  him  near  the  table.  Close 


THE  "HOME."  81 

in  the  wake  of  "Weston  swayed  the  huge  form  of  the 
blacksmith,  his  face  covered  with  smut  and  smiles. 
The  Deacon  did  not  esteem  Gaston  as  important  a 
personage,  and  left  him  standing  in  the  crowd,  his 
shoulders  and  open  flannel  shirt  bosom  conspicuous 
above  the  heads  of  them  all. 

After  Weston  had  taken  his  seat,  McGarr  looked 
as  sternly  and  solemnly  as  ever  over  his  spectacles, 
and  then  elevating  his  face  and  looking  through  them, 
his  hands  locked  under  the  skirts  of  his  coat  behind 
him,  after  spitting  with  due  precision,  he  broke  the 
impressive  silence. 

"  I  suppose,  gentlemen,  you  are  all  aware  of  the 
object  which  has  convened  us  here." 

The  Deacon  dropped  his  head  impressively  and 
looked  over  his  spectacles,  after  adjusting  them  more 
carefully  upon  his  nose  and  again  putting  his  hands 
together  under  his  coat  tails.  Finding  that  the  si- 
lence was  duly  respected,  he  spit  again,  and  con 
tinned. 

"  I  say,  gentlemen,  we  are  met  here  as  a  board  of 
-exercise,  for  the  purpose  of  granting  a  license  to  Mr. 
Hermon,  to  keep  a  tavern.  I  need  n't  'lucidate  on 
the  advantages  of  a  tavern  in  a  place  like  this.  •No, 
gentlemen,  —  it  is  plain  to  every  one,  that  a  house 
for  the  accommodation  of  the  public,  is  highly  needed 
among  us.  \persume  there  is  not  a  single  descending 
voice  against  a  tavern  —  not  one." 

Mr.  McGarr,  at  the  conclusion  of  the  last  sentence, 
given  in  an  emphatic  tone,  jerked  his  thick  body  vio 


82  MINXIE  HEEMON. 

iently  forward  to  make  it  still  more  emphatic,  his 
specs  falling  from  his  nose  upon  the  table.  A  titter 
ran  round  the  outside  of  the  room,  among  the  young- 
er portion  of  the  audience,  and  the  Deacon  colored 
deeply  at  such  an  interruption  of  his  speech.  But  he 
wiped  his  specs,  and  as  he  again  put  them  on,  lie 
dropped  his  brow,  rolled  his  quid  to  the  other  side  of 
his  mouth,  and  again  looked  silently  around  over  hij 
glasses. 

"Gentlemen  and  la gentlemen.     We  need  a 

tavern.  Our  feller  citizen,  Mr.  Hermon,  has  prepared 
to  keep  one,  and  wants  a  license.  He  is  a  man  of 
excellent  moral  character,  and  we  are  obliged  as  a 
board  of  exercise,  to  give  him  one.  The  law  is  plain 
on  thasjwO."  As  he  concluded,  he  took  his  specs  off 
with  one  hand,  and  with  the  other  dropped  the 
"statoo"  emphatically  upon  the  table.  With  a  self- 
satisfied  air,  he  pulled  away  his  coat  skirts  and  sat 
down,  crossing  his  legs  and  resting  his  thumbs  in  his 
vest.  As  he  looked  around  to  see  what  effect  his 
speech  had  made  upon  the  spectators,  he  slowly 
stroked  his  chin,  and  drummed  on  the  floor  with  hia 
foot. 

£o  one  said  a  word,  and  McGarr,  with  a  conde- 
scending air,  finally  suggested  that  perhaps  others 
might  wish  to  make  a  few  remarks  upon  the  subject 
before  them.  Whereupon  the  supervisor  raised  about 
half  way  up,  with  his  hand  resting  upon  the  post  of 
his  chair,  and  stammered  out  the  idea  that  there  ouo-ht 

O 

to  be  a  tavern   in.  the  place,  and  then   sat  down 


THE  "HOME."  83 

drawing  a  long  breath.  During  this  time,  Mr.  Her- 
mon  was  standing  in  front  of  the  table,  with  his  hat 
in  his  hand,  his  chin  resting  upon  the  crown.  Old 
Mr.  Brayton  was  resting  upon  the  corner  of  the 
table. 

"  Gentlemen,  as  you  have  given  opportunity,  I  wish 
to  make  a  few  remarks." 

All  turned  as  these  words,  in  low  and  tremulous 
but  pleasant  and  distinct  tones,  arrested  their  atten- 
tion. Deacon  McGarr  so  far  forgot  his  dignity  as  to 
raise  himself  partially  from  his  chair,  and  look 
towards  that  part  of  the  room  from  whence  the 
voice  proceeded  ;  then  putting  his  hand  behind  his 
ear,  in  a  listening  attitude,  he  requested  the  gentle- 
man to  speak  louder.  Thus  assured,  the  speaker 
stood  upon  the  bench  where  all  could  see  him.  It 
was  Walter  Brayton.  His  countenance  was  flushed, 
and  he  hesitated  with  embarrassment,  but  he  was 
committed  and  all  eyes  were  turned  upon  him. 

"  I  see,  my  friends,  that  I  shall  be  alone  in  what  I 
have  to  say,  but  before  God  I  believe  I  am  in  the 
right,  and  I  must  speak  honestly.  Alone  though  I 
may  be,  I  most  earnestly  and  solemnly  protest  against 
this  whole  affair.  I  know  that  I  shall  offend  when  I 
Bay  it,  but  I  think  I  can  see  that  your  tavern,  instead 
of  being  a  benefit,  will  be  a  deep  and  lasting  injury. 
It  ought  never  to  be." 

Walter  spoke  rapidly,  but  with  an  honest  energy 
which  riveted  attention.  His  were  novel  thoughts  at 
that  day,  and  his  a  bold  and  embarrassing  position. 
4 


84:  MDfXIE   HERMON. 

But  there  was  the  ring  of  the  true  metal  in  his  manly 
tones,  and  had  he  been  spared  in  his  strength  until  a 
later  day,  his  moral  heroism  would  have  made  him  a 
leader  whose  words  would  have  been  a  trumpet's 
blast. 

•  Deacon  McGarr  looked  more  sternly  than  ever  over 
his  glasses,  and  chewed  his  quid  rapidly,  casting  in- 
quiring looks  from  the  father  to  the  son.  The  elder 
Brayton  sat  with  a  frown  and  compressed  lip,  and 
Hermon  looked  angrily  towards  McGarr. 

"  Does  the  young  man  know  what  he  is  talking 
about?"  asked  McGarr,  with  attempted  sternness, 
eyeing  "Walter  over  his  glasses. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  the  latter,  respectfully  but  firm- 
ly ;  "I  am  talking  of  a  tavern  which  you  propose 
this  day  to  empower  to  sell  intoxicating  liquors  to 
your  ne'ghbors.  I  know  that  I  am  talking  to  older 
men,  but  I  believe  that  the  result  of  your  action  will 
bring  desolation  and  sorrow  to  your  homes  and  fami 
lies  in  the  future.  This  is  a  peaceful,  happy  commu- 
nity now,  but  you  commence  the  retail  of  spirituous 
liquors,  and  in  my  humble  opinion,  every  one  of  yon, 
gentlemen  of  the  board,  will  regret  it." 

"  Does  the  young  man  dare  to  imprecate  the  board 
of  exercise?  Such  language  cannot  be  permitted. 
The  young  man  will  please  take  his  seat.  Boys  like 
he  should  not  presume  to  label  the  board.  What 
does  he  know  about  licensed  taverns,  and  by  whose 
authority  does  he  come  here  to  instruct  men  like  we 
are?" 


rng  "  HOME."  85 

McGarr  grew  pale  with  anger  as  he  proceeded,  and 
Bat  down  with  the  air  of  one  who  felt  that  he  had  an- 
nihilated his  man.  But  he  was  mistaken  in  the  metal 
of  "Waiter  Bray  ton.  The  sneering  tone  and  everbear- 
ing manner  of  the  Deacon  aroused  the  lion  in  him ; 
and  with  a  kindling  eye  and  erect  form  he  burst  forth 
in  a  torrent  of  burning  eloquence,  which  startled  and 
thrilled  "by  its  power.  The  natural  orator  was  there, 
and  that  audience,  against  him  though  they  were, 
listened  in  wrapt  attention. 

"  Yes,"  he  spoke  in  conclusion,  his  clear  ringing 
voice  slightly  tremulous  with  emotion,  "your  tavern 
will  prove  a  curse.  I  cannot  foretell  all  its  results, 
but  it  will  prove  a  curse.  Deacon  McGarr,  in  a  man- 
ner and  tone  unworthy  one  of  his  profession,  haa 
sneered  at  my  youth.  My  boyhood  is  no  crime. 
Boy  as  I  am,  I  could  reveal  a  history  which  would 
draw  tears  from  every  eye — a  history  of  hopes  ruined 
—  of  suffering  and  of  death." 

"This  cannot  be  tolerated;  your  stories  have  no- 
thing to  do  with  the  matter  before  the  board,"  ex- 
claimed McGarr,  in  a  loud  and  angry  tone.  "  You 
will  take  your  seat,  sir." 

"  I  have  done,  Deacon  McGarr  —  my  painful  duty 
is  performed."  Here  "Walter  caught  his  father's  eye, 
now  flashing  with  anger,  and  he  continued. 

"You  ask  me  by  what  authority  I  come  here.  I 
have  the  same  right  as  every  other  American  citizen. 
In  behalf  of  the  women  and  children  of  this  commu- 
nity ;  of  a  sorrowing,  broken-hearted  mother  who  ia 


86  MINNIE   HERMON. 

at  rest  in  her  grave;  by  that  well-worn  Bible  which 
rum  snatched  from  her  dying  pillow  ;  by  ten  thou- 
sand histories  of  wrong  and  suffering,  I  most  solemnly 
protest  against  this  proceeding.  You  will  see  the 
time  when  you  will  curse  this  day  with  hearts  of 
deepest  bitterness,  every  one  of  you.  I  have  done/' 

"  And  it  ought  to  be  cursed  !  " 

A  strangely  deep  and  startling  voice  broke  in  upon 
the  stillness  which  followed  the  speech  of  Walter 
Brayton.  There  was  a  movement  to  see  from  whence 
it  came,  and  McGarr,  livid  with  ill-suppressed  rage, 
called  out, 
-"Who  is  that?" 

"  One  your  tavern  is  to  benefit,  Deacon  McGarr,'' 
and  he  stepped  up  in  fair  view,  and  fixed  his  fiery  red 
but  piercing  eye  full  upon  the  dignitary  he  addressed. 
We  recognize  our  acquaintance  in  the  seaman's 
jacket  and  broad-brimmed  tarpaulin. 

"The  man  is  drunk  —  he  is  drunk,  put  him  out  — 
Constable  Gaston,  put  him  out —  I  order  you  ! " 

The  dignity  of  the  waspish  official  had  been  too 
deeply  insulted,  and  he  fairly  danced  with  excess  of 
rage. 

"  Put  him  out,  1  say — I  order  you  to  put  him  out," 
and  the  exasperated  Deacon  snatched  his  glasses  oif 
and  pointed  to  where  the  seaman  still  stood,  looking 
calmly  and  sneeringly  upon  the  scene.  Gaston  good- 
naturedly  laid  his  huge  hand  on  the  man's  shoulders 
and  led  him  peacefully  down  stairs. 

That  speech  of  Walter  Brayton's  was  a  glorious  one 


THE    "  HOME."  87 

for  that  day,  but  the  granting  of  the  license  was  a 
foregone  conclusion,  and  as  soon  as  the  excitement 
had  subsided,  the  board,  after  some  favorable  remarks 
from  Colonel  Weston,  proceeded  to  complete  the 
business  which  had  called  them  together,  and  the 
"  Traveler's  Home  "  was  licensed.  That  evening  and 

o 

the  following  day  the  "  Home"  was  open  to  all,  and 
.iquors  free. 
—  The  first  results  were  in  progress. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

-^ 

DEATH   m   THE   ATTIC. 

DAKKNESS  rests  like  a  pall  upon  the  streets  which 
are  now  deserted.  The  busy  throng  which  has  swept 
the  thoroughfares  until  late  at  night,  has  ceased  to 
flow,  and  the  great  metropolis  no  longer  throbs  its 
living  tide  through  the  accustomed  arteries.  The 
snow  has  been  falling  fast  for  an  hour,  and  the  sharp 
gusts  sweep  round  the  corner  and  go  wailing  down 
the  dim  avenues,  as  if  sorrowing  for  human  woe. 
The  lamp  lights  gleam  pale  and  sickly  out  through  the 
Btorm.  The  policemen,  or  some  reveller,  and  the 
winds,  alone  disturb  the  silence  that  reigns. 

Turn  downward  where  the  lepers  of  want  and  vice 
have  gathered  as  if  in  sympathy.  The  foul  crater  is 
active,  for  its  more  deadly  fumes  ascend  in  the  dark- 
ness of  the  night.  Down  below  the  surface  of  earth, 
are  pits  where  the  ruffianly  and  the  vile  are  at  their 
revels.  There  is  a  faint,  deathly  glare  from  the  dirty 
windows,  and,  in  spite  of  the  wintry  blast,  an  occa- 
sional breath  of  the  rum  hell  reeking  beneath.  And 
then  there  often  comes  up  some  startling  ha  I  ha  !  to 
mingle  with  the  shrieking  of  the  wind. 

Here  is  a  dark  alley,  scarce  wide  enough  to  admit  a 
person,  and  running  back  where  no  light  breaks  in 


DEATH   IN   THE  ATTIC.  89 

apon  tlie  impenetrable  darkness.  The  foot  strikes  a 
step  and  we  climb  upward  upon  a  creaking  flight  of 
stairs.  The  snow  and  wind  whirl  fiercely  over  the 
roof  and  shake  the  crazy  structure  to  its  founda- 
tion, but  we  lean  closer  to  the  walls  and  mount 
upward. 

Five  stories  up,  and  we  stand  upon  a  narrow  plat- 
form and  peer  down  with  a  whirling  brain  into  the 
black  ocean  below.  Turning  into  a  narrow  hall,  we 
stand  before  a  shattered  door,  revealing  a  feeble  light 
within.  Even  in  this  winter  night,  the  miasma  of 
pollution  floats  through  the  building  like  a  pestilence. 

"What  a  scene,  as  we  enter  that  chamber !  Here 
poverty  and  want  grin  in  their  ghastly  loneliness  and 
solitude.  The  silence  of  desolation  broods  over  all, 
and  the  faint  lamp-light  flickering  to  its  wane,  is  like 
the  beam  which  creeps  up  from  the  exhalations  of 
the  grave.  There  is  not  a  coal  in  the  grate,  nor  a 
chair  in  the  room.  The  gusts  of  wind  sift  the  snow 
through  the  cracks  by  the  door,  and  an  involuntary 
chill  steals  over  the  surface  and  then  into  the  heart. 
Starvation,  gaunt,  pinched  and  spectral,  stalks  before 
the  imagination,  and  mingles  a  footfall  with  every 
gust  that  rattles  the  shattered  door. 

—  And  do  human  creatures  dwell  in  such  abodes 
as  this  ? 

Hist! 

There  is  a  sound  in  that  dark  corner.  There  is  a 
sigh  as  if  a  life  of  agony  were  crushed  at  once  from 
the  heart.  And  then  a  spectre  form  slowly  rises  and 


90 


MTNTOE   HERMON. 


stalks  towards  the  light.  It  is  a  woman,  but  God! 
how  thin  and  haggard  1  A  fiercer  gust  shakes  the  old 
building.  She  stands  in  a  listening  attitude,  as  its 
low  wail  dies  away,  and  then,  wildly  staring  at  va- 
cancy, takes  her  seat  mechanically  upon  a  box  by  the 
light,  ITer  face  is  thin,  and  every  feature  the  foot- 
print of  unutterable  agony.  The  eyes  are  sunken 
and  inflamed,  but  as  tearless  as  her  cheek  and  lip  are 
bloodless.  The  latter  is  thin  and  drawn  closely,  as  if 
in  mortal  suffering,  over  her  teeth. 

She  leans  towards  the  waning  taper,  and  takes  a 
garment  in  her  hand  upon  which  she  has  been  sew- 
ing. How  fearfully  tearless  and  calm  she  appears. 
We  look  until  some  nightmare  fascination  chains  us  to 
the  spot.  Save  a  startling  wildness  about  the  eye,  it 
would  not  seem  that  those  features  had  ever  been 
stirred  by  a  human  passion.  She  holds  her  hands 
towards  the  light  in  the  attempt  to  thread  her  needle, 
but  fails ;  and  still,  with  her  hands  extended,  stares  at 
the  dim  taper. 

There  is  a  stirring  in  the  heap  of  rags  beside  her, 
and  the  woman  starts  as  if  stung  by  an  adder.  The 
faintest  flush  passes  over  her  cheek,  and  she  mutters 
to  herself  as  she  more  hurriedly  essays  to  thread  the 
needle. 

From  that  heap  of  rags  a  boy  has  come  forth ! 
Child  of  ten  years,  perhaps  —  he  stands  before  that 
spectral  mother,  and  in  husky  whispers  asks  for  bread. 
She  stares  strangely  into  his  face,  and  still  mutters  to 
herself. 


DEATH   IN   THE   ATTIC.  91 

The  boy  is  almost  naked  and  shivering  with  cold, 
and  upon  those  childish  features  hunger  has  written 
enough  to  pierce  the  hardest  heart.  The  very  look 
is  a  hopeless,  heart-breaking  agony.  The  child  bows 
his  head  in  that  woman's  lap  with  a  sob-like  moan, 
and  then  moves  with  a  languid  step  to  the  grate  and 
lays  his  fingers,  already  blue  with  cold,  upon  the 
frosty  iron.  The  chill  causes  him  to  start,  and  he  re- 
turns moaning  to  the  woman.  The  hand  has  fallen 
in  her  lap,  and  the  boy  lays  his  cold  cheek  down  upon 
it  and  weeps.  She  laughs  !  but  it  is  the  low,  horrible 
ha !  ha !  of  the  maniac ! 

"  Mother !  dear  mother,  give  me  one  mouthful  of 
bread.  Hain't  there  bread  enough  where  Pa  has 
gone  ?  Mother,  will  God  give  me  bread  if  I  say  my 
prayers  ? " 

The  child  kneels,  and  the  prayer  his  mother  taught 
him  goes  feebly  up  against  the  wail  of  the  blast,  and 
then,  with  weariness  and  hunger,  the  little  pleader 
falls  to  sleep  on  his  knees,  Ms  head  on  his  mother's 
hand. 

—  That  mother  smiles  as  she  still  stares  at  vacancy. 


The  storm  has  passed,   and   the    morning    ligh, 
of  the  Sabbath  dawns   upon   the   great   city.     The 
church  bells  are  pealing  out  the  Sabbath  melody 
and  gay  throngs  of  people  are  wending  along  to  the 
richly  furnished  churches.     Here  are  shawls  which 


92  MINXIE    n  LEMON. 

a   queen   might   envy,   and   equipages    of   princely 
splendor. 

Early  this  Sabbath  morning,  a  cold-hearted  land- 
lord goes  up  the  lone  stairway  for  the  promised  pit- 
tance of  rent,  and  knocks  at  the  door,  which  the 
reader  has  already  entered.  He  awaits  but  a  moment 
and  angrily  enters. 

"  No  playing  games  with  me,  madam.  That  money 
or  leave.  D'ye  hear,  woman  ? " 

The  ruffian  was  used  to  scenes  of  suffering,  but  he 
started  back  at  the  one  before  him.  That  pale,  hag- 
gard woman-spectre  was  still  seated  by  the  lamp  now 
burned  out,  the  garment  and  needle  in  her  hand, 
and  that  horrible  smile  upon  her  features,  and  that 
wild  eye  gazing  into  vacancy. 

The  lamp  had  burned  down  and  died  out  in  its 
socket.  The  lamp  of  life,  too,  had  waned  during  that 
cold,  dreary  night,  and  a  corpse  sat  there,  holding  the 
needle  in  the  emaciated  fingers,  and  smiling  in  death. 
The  boy  slept  against  the  rigid  and  pulseless  form  of 
the  toil-worn,  heart-broken,  hungered  mother. 

That  day  the  officer  entered  the  fireless  chamber 
to  remove  the  dead  seamstress.  In  that  dark  corner, 
where  the  woman  was  first  seen,  was  the  husband. 
He  had  been  a  corpse  for  more  than  ten  days,  and 
she  toiling  to  escape  starvation,  and  watching  with 
the  shroudless,  unburied  dead. 

The  two  found  a  home  and  an  endless  rest  in  "  Pot- 
ter's Field,"  and  the  pinched  and  starving  boy,  bread 
in  the  alms-house. 


DEATH  IN   THE  ATTIC.  93 

Another  act  in  the  great  tragedy  of  intemperance 
Lad  been  played  out,  and  the  curtain  of  wintry  clod 
and  snow  closed  upon  the  principal  actors.  The 
fashionable  throng  passed  from  their  churches,  while 
the  starved  paupers  went  to  their  graves. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

A  WEDDING  AT  THE  COTTAGE "ONLY  ONE  GLASS." 

ACKOSS  the  stream,  upon  the  overhanging  bank,  was 
one  of  the  loveliest  spots  in  the  village.     The  village 
doctor  dwelt  here.     The  cottage  was  nearly  hidden 
in  a  dense  grove  of  sugar  maples,  dotted  here  and 
there  with  green  pyramids  of  the  spruce  and  the  fir, 
and  the  clean  gravel  walk  wound  deviously  among 
the  shrubbery  from  the  threshold  to  the  gate,  through 
a   rich  carpeting  of  green.     Autumn  had   already 
commenced  its  language  of  beauty  upon  the  foliage; 
and,  mixed  with  the  more  copious  green  of  summer, 
was  the  golden  yellow,  with  scattering  tufts  of  scarlet' 
gleaming  like  wreaths  of  flame  in  the  pure  October 
sunlight     The  eaves  of  the  cottage  were  green  with 
moss,  and  the  wild  vines  had  crept  up  one  corner  and 
clung  closely  to  the  old  water  trough,  and  dropped  in 
graceful  festoons  before  the  quaint  old  window  in  the 
gable.     Back  of  the  dwelling  were  two  old  pear  trees, 
reaching  far  up  into  the  sky,  and  their  trunks  green 
with  the  moss  of  years.    A  little  farther,  and  the  grape 
had  climbed  into  a  wild  plum,  and  an  impenetrable 
canopy  .pf  cool  green  network  hung  gracefully  above 
the  old  seat  at  the  roots.     Sloping  back  from  the  gar- 
den, was  a  meadow  reaching  down  until  the  turf  dip- 


ONLY  ONE  GLASS. 


A  WEDDING   AT  THE   COTTAGE.  97 

ped  its  long  green  fringe  into  the  stream.  Back  of 
all,  the  hills  beat  up  against  the  sky  with  their  robing 
of  dark  evergreen,  flecked  here  and  there  with  the 
crimsoning  maple  or  yellow  birch.  ' 

—  One  might  hunt  for  years  and  not  find  a  lovlier 
spot. 

Ten  years  before  the  time  of  which  we  are  writing, 
there  was  sorrow  in  the  old  cottage.  The  sun  smiled 
sweetly  in  the  west  and  into  the  high  old  windows, 
but  there  were  dark  shadows  on  hearts  within.  An 
old  man  was  wrestling  with  death.  Delirium  was 
upon  him,  and  he  raved  in  his  madness  of  a  stranger 
name,  an'd  cursed  and  died.  The  orphan  child  who 
had  never  known  a  mother,  wept  in  all  the  bitterness 
of  childhood's  grief  upon  the  corpse  of  her  father. 
She  knew  not  that  the  madness  which  swept  the  sky 
of  his  life's  last  evening,  was  the  madness  of  the  bowl. 
She  found  herself  alone  in  the  old  cottage,  a  beaiiti 
ful,  sorrowing  orphan. 

But  childhood's  sorrows  pass  away.  The  sun  smile^ 
upon  the  tear-drops  of  the  passing  storm.  Ten  years 
went  by,  and  the  orphan  child  had  bloomed  into 
faultless  womanhood,  and  moved  a  star  in  the 
circles  around  her,  for  she  was  as  good  as  she  was 
lovely. 

The  gifted  and  noble  young  Howard  had  settled  in 
the  place  and  commenced  the  practice  of  medicine. 
His  talent,  professional  skill,  and  high  moral  worth, 
made  him  at  once  a  favorite.  He  was  a  young  man 
of  rare  promise,  though  without  means.  His  practice 


98  MINNIE   HERMON. 

ted  him  to  form  the  acquaintance  of  the  lovely  orphan, 
and  a  strong  mutual  attachment  sprang  up  between 
them. 

One  evening  in  June  there  was  a  gathering  at  the 
cottage,  and  light-hearted  throngs  rustled  up  the 
walks  to  the  shadowy  old  porch.  Lights  streamed 
from  the  windows,  and  pleasant  voices  went  out  upon 
the  still  and  balmy  air.  Merry  groups  gathered  upon 
the  soft  greensward,  or  tripped  with  low  whispers 
through  the  balcony,  hidden  by  green  jealousies  and 
pendant  boughs.  An  ocean  of  pure  moonlight  bathed 
the  world  in  its  mellow  flood. 

A  wedding  party  has  gathered — Howard  and  the 
fair  orphan  are  to  stand  at  the  altar. 

All  was  light  and  joy  in  the  old  cottage.  The 
"Doctor"  was  a  favorite,  and  the  invitation  had  been 
general ;  and  the  old  and  the  young  of  both  sexes 
were  gathered  on  the  occasion. 

There  was  a  sound  of  merry  voices  floating  from 
the  open  windows  out  upon  the  calm  night  air,  with 
a  pleasant  mingling  of  laughter  and  music.  The  par- 
eon  had  not  yet  made  his  appearance,  and  spirits 
were  buoyant  and  tongues  unfettered. 

"Is  what  I  hear  true,  Colonel,  about  the  Doctor? 
Or  is  it  some  neighborhood  gossip  ? " 

This  question  was  put  by  Miss  Anson,  (next  to  the 
orphan  heiress,  the  belle  of  the  village,)  to  Colonel 
"VVeston,  a  young  and  wealthy  farmer,  as  they  were 
promenading  arm  in  arm  up  and  down  the  gravel 
walk  in  front  of  the  mansion. 


A   "WEDDING   AT  THE  COTTAGE.  99 

"  To  what  do  you  allude,  Miss  Anson  ? "  answered 
Weston. 

"  "Why,  have  n't  you  heard  ?  —  why,  it  is  the  neigh- 
borhood talk  that  the  Doctor  refuses  to  have  wine  at 
his  wedding!" 

"  Is  it  possible !  I  had  not  heard  it  before.  But 
surely  he  will  not  so  far  depart  from  propriety  and 
fashionable  custom,  as  to  treat  his  friends  and  guests 
thus  disrespectfully  ? " 

"  I  don't  know  about  that.  Miss  Knight  told  me 
last  evening,  and  she  says  that  Miss  Kelson's  brother 
told  her,  that  the  Doctor  positively  refused  to  have 
wine  at  his  wedding.  I  fear  there  is  something 
in  it." 

"  Surely,"  replied  the  Colonel,  in  unfeigned  aston- 
ishment, "  the  Doctor  cannot  be  so  beside  himself.  I 
know  he  is  somewhat  eccentric  in  these  matters,  but 
what  unaccountable  whim  has  come  over  him  now?" 

"  I  don't  know.  But  if  he  persists,  it  will  do  him 
a  great  injury.  It  is  already  the  town  talk.  Some 
friend  should  see  him  and  talk  him  out  of  it.  Not 
have  wine  at  a  wedding !  and  belonging,  too,  to  the 
first  society  ? " 

Miss  Anson  felt  indignant  at  such  a  contemplated 
violation  of  fashion  and  good  breeding,  and  proceeded 
to  commiserate  the  feelings  of  the  bride  under  cir- 
cumstances so  mortifying  to  her  pride  and  good  taste. 

"Well,  well,"  said  Colonel  "Weston,  musingly, 
"  this  will  never  do.  I  will  see  Doctor  Howard  my- 
self, lie  must  not  take  a  step  so  objectionable  and 


100  MiraTE   HEKMON. 


improper.  Let  me  surrender  my  pleasant  post,  Misa 
Anson,  to  Mr.  Mason  for  a  few  moments,  while  I  go 
to  do  my  friend  a  kindness." 

"I  will  most  cheerfully  accept  the  trust,  Colonel 
"Weston,  and  shall  not  look  anxiously  for  your  re- 
turn. Colonel  Weston  bowed,  and  passed  into  the 
house. 

"  Have  you  heard  anything  of  this  strange  freak  of 
Doctor  Howard,  about  not  having  any  wine  at  his 
wedding,  Mr.  Mason  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  I  know  something  of  the  matter,  and 
must  say  that  I  regret  that  it  is  true.     The  house- 
keeper came  yesterday  and  got  the  wine  at  our  store, 
but  it  was  without  the  knowledge  of  Howard.     Mis 
tress  sent  her." 

"  How  strange  you  talk  !  What  on  earth  can  have 
possessed  the  man  to  take  such  a  course  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  Miss  Anson,  it  is  as  strange  to  me  as  to 
all  his  friends.  If  he  persists  in  such  folly,  it  will  in- 
jure him  most  deeply  throughout  the  community. 
Such  a  breach  of  propriety  would  hardly  be  for- 
given." 

"  Inj  ure  him  ?  —  indeed  it  will  !  His  friends  should 
look  to  the  matter.  Colonel  Weston  has  already  gone 
to  reason  him  out  of  his  singular  determination.  Not 
have  wine  at  a  wedding?  Who  ever  heard  of  the  like?". 

"  Let  us  hope,  Miss  Anson,  that  this  matter  will  all 
yet  pass  off  properly.  No  one  would  regret  more 
than  myself,  such  conduct  in  a  gentleman  of  Doctor 
Howard's  character  and  standing." 


A  WEDDING  AT  THE  COTTAGE.  101 

The  matter  had  already  got  noised  about,  and  other 
groups  were  discussing  the  question  with  as  much 
earnestness  as  though  the  future  happiness  and  posi- 
tion of  the  young  couple  depended  upon  the  circula- 
tion of  wine  among  the  wedding  guests. 

While  the  groups  in  the  yard  and  on  the  veranda, 
were  discussing  the  matter  in  whispers,  there  was  an- 
other discussion  in  the  chamber.  There  was  Doctor 
Howard  and  his  young  bride,  awaiting  the  arrival  £f 
the  parson. 

"  Well,  Henry,"  spoke  Miss  James,  in  low  tones, 
"  I  do  not  wish  to  insist  on  having  the  wine  handed 
around.  On  my  own  part,  I  care  nothing  about  it ; 
but  what  will  the  people  say  ? " 

"  Let  us  not  care,  dear  one,  what  people  say.  I  do 
not  like  to  be  a  slave  to  custom,  and  especially  to  a 
custom  which  I  know  to  be  wrong." 

"  You  speak  earnestly,  Henry,  of  a  very  fashiona 
ble  custom.  What  objection  can  you  have — how  do 
you  know  it  is  wrong  ?  I  am  sure  I  am  anxious  to 
see  the  matter  in  the  light  that  you  do,  but  I  fear  our 
friends  will  be  offended  if  we  banish  wine  on  this  oc- 
casion. Do  you  not  \  " 

"They  might,  but  it  seems  to  me  that  if  they  knew 
what  I  know,  they  would  shun  the  accursed  cup  of 
the  enchantress." 

The  bride  was  startled  at  the  depth  and  energy  of 
Howard's  tones,  and  watched  with  interest  the  shad- 
ows that  passed  over  his  fine  countenance.  There 
was  sadness  there,  for  the  gifted  and  noble  man  wai 


102  MINNIE   HEKMON. 

looking  away  upon  the  dark  canvass  of  childhood, 
<vhere  still  lingered  the  scene  of  a  boy,  hungry  and 
cold,  weeping  himself  to  rest  in  the  lap  of  a  dead 
mother  in  the  garret.  The  boy  had  learned  in  after 
years,  the  cause  of  his  early  bereavement  and  suffer- 
ing, and  shrunk  from  the  glass  as  he  would  from  a 
serpent's  hiss. 

"  No,  no,"  sadly  spoke  Howard,  as  he  aroused  him- 
s»lf  from  his  musing,  "  do  not  over  persuade  me  in 
this  matter.  I  may  be  asking  much,  but  there  is  a 
shadow  of  a  coming  ill  resting  upon  me,  and  I  cannot 
shake  it  off,  and  it  seems  strongly  associated  with  this 
wine  business.  Agree  with  me  in  this,  Ellen,  and  I 
will  bless  you  always." 

Howard  stood  before  her,  and  a  tear  came  upon 
her  own  lid  as  she  saw  his  sad  face.  She  laid  her 
hand  in  his  affectionately  and  smiled. 

"  You  have  conquered  —  let  it  go  as  you  wish.  I 
will  not  press  you  now,  but  some  time  hence  I  will 
ask  you  why  you  so  earnestly  urge  this  strange  wish, 
for  I  am  sure  there  is  much  behind  it  all,  which  you 
have  not  told  me." 

There  was  a  hush  in  the  room,  and  the  talking 

*  o 

nearly  ceased  —  the  parson  had  arrived.  As  his  tall 
form  and  cold,  severe  countenance  appeared  in  the 
hall,  a  change  fell  upon  the  spirits  of  the  company. 
He  bowed  stiffly,  and  turned  his  dull  grey  eye  search- 
ingly  upon  those  in  the  room.  That  face  will  become 
familiar  to  the  reader  — the  parson  is  Snyder 
The  marriage  ceremony  was  completed.  Conver 


A   WEDDING   AT  THE   COTTAGE.  103 

Bation  had  just  commenced  briskly  again,  when  the 
old  house-keeper  beckoned  Howard  from  tne  hall 
door.  As  he  passed  into  the  hall,  he  found  young 
Mason  expostulating  with  the  old  lady  about  the  wine 
question.  Mason  insisted  that  the  wish  of  Howard 
was  a  mere  whim,  and  that,  as  a  friend,  he  should 
take  the  liberty  of  sending  around  the  wine.  This 
the  old  lady  refused  assent  to  without  the  knowledge 
of  Howard,  and  so  beckoned  him  out. 

Upon  learning  the  reason  why  he  was  called  out, 
A  shade  of  anger  settled  upon  his  features,  and  he 
asked  sternly  why  the  matter  had  thus  been  broached, 
after  his  wishes  had  been  made  known. 

"  Nay,  but  you  must  pardon  us,"  replied  Mason. 
"  As  a  friend,  I  insist  that  on  this  occasion  you  shall 
not  persist  in  so  wide  a  departure  from  the  customs 
of  well-regulated  society.  You  wrong  yourself  and 
give  offence  to  your  friends.  The  people  will  think, 
Howard,  that  you  are  mad." 

-  "  I  do  not  see,"  replied  Howard,  promptly,  "  why 
the  people,  as  you  call  them,  should  interfere  or  med- 
dle with  a  matter  of  this  kind,  which  only  concerns 
me  and  mine.  I  have  my  own  reasons  for  this  de- 
parture from  what  you  call  the  customs  of  well-regu- 
lated society  —  a  custom,  however,  which,  permit  rne 
honestly  to  affirm,  it  were  far  more  honorable  to  re- 
pudiate than  to  adopt.  If  you  are  my  friends,  you 
ought  not  to  insist  longer  upon  this  violation  of  my 
earnest  wishes.  You  will  pardon  my  seeming 
warmth,  for  you  who  know  me  will  believe  that  I 


104: 


MINNIE   HKKMON. 


have  reasons  for  my  course  which  are  satisfactory  to 
myself." 

Howard  turned  on  his  heel  and  was  passing  through 
the  group  which  had  gathered,  when  Colonel  Weston 
came  up — he  having  learned  the  subject  under  dis- 
cussion. The  Colonel  was  an  impulsive,  frank,  bold 
man,  and  had  already  tested  the  wine  by  the  favor  of 
the  old  house-keeper. 

"High  times,  indeed,  Howard,  when  you  delib- 
erately attempt  to  freeze  up  the  happiness  of  this  oc 
casion,  by  withholding  that  which  gives  joy  its  purest 
flow.  As  a  commanding  officer,  I  shall  order  you 
under  arrest,  and  declare  martial  law.  Mason,  fol- 
low me." 

With  a  laugh  and  a  graceful  bow,  Colonel  Weston 
tnrned  away,  followed  by  Mason.  Howard  passed 
slowly  into  the  parlor,  where  he  had  hardly  entered 
into  the  gayeties  of  the  occasion,  when  in  came  Wes- 
ton and  Mason,  with  the  server  and  wine.  A  deep 
red  flush  passed  over  Howard's  face  as  he  saw  them, 
and  his  eye  kindled  with  anger.  On  any  other  occa- 
sion he  would  have  openly  resented  the  insult.  But 
he  was  taken  by  surprise,  and  remained  in  his  seat, 
feeling  deeply  indignant. 

Weston  came  up  and  handed  the  wine  to  the  bride. 
She  looked  doubtingly  in  the  face  of  Howard,  and 
mechanically  took  a  glass  from  the  server. 

"  Kay,  my  noble  friend,"  said  Weston,  as  he  passed 
it  to  Howard,  "  no  frowns,  for  I  am  alone  responsible. 
But,  sir,  you  surely  will  follow  Mrs.  Howard's  exaru« 


A   WEDDING   AT  THE   COTTAGE.  105 

pie,  and  take  a  glass  of  wine  on  your  wedding  night." 
There  was  a  silence  in  the  room  and  all  eyes  were 
turned"  upon  the  parties.  More  especially  were  the 
guests  watching  Howard.  The  silence  was  embar- 
rassing, and  the  bride  looked  appealingly  to  him  to 
relieve  her  from  the  unpleasant  position.  The  wine 
trembled  in  her  hand,  and  the  smile  passed  from  her 
face  as  she  saw  the  half-sad,  half-angry  expression 
upon  that  ol  her  husband. 

None  knew  the  mad  whirl  of  Howard's  thoughts, 
or  saw  the  dark  vision  passing  before  him.  Twenty 
years  later,  and  none  of  this  decision  and  moral  cour- 
age would  have  hesitated  a  moment.  But  an  old  and 
dangerous  custom  was  hanging  over  him,  and  he 
knew  not  which  way  to  turn  or  what  to  do.  His  bet- 
ter angel  bent  sadly  over  him,  watching  the  wily 
efforts  of  the  tempter  to  fasten  the  first  cords  of  the 
fatal  mesh  upon  a  new  victim. 

"Take  it,  Howard,"  urged  Weston,  with  a  smile, 
"one  glass  would  not  harm  an  angel.  This  is  a  night 
and  an  occasion  to  honor  with  the  flowing  beaker. 
"We  must  wish  you  and  your  bride  long  years  of  hap- 
piness in  the  future  in  the  mellow  blood  of  the  grape. 
Yon  surely  will  not  disappoint  your  friends  on  your 
wedding  night." 

"Weston  bent  his  eye  full  upon  Howard  with  a  win- 
ning smile,  and  held  the  full  glasses  nearer  to  him. 
Huward,  alone  within  himself,  wrestled  bravely 
against  the  wily  approach  of  the  insidious  enemy, 
and  he  lifted  his  eyes  to  his  bride,  the  full  round 


MTXXIE    HERMON. 


drops  stood  thickly  upon  a  brow  more  than  usually 
pale,  and  his  features  wore  an  expression  of  pain. 

"  Why,  how  ungallant  you  are—  Doctor  Howard  re- 
fuse a  glass  of  wine  on  your  wedding  night,  and 
your  lady  waiting  your  action  !  Colonel,  shall  we 
drink  to  the  bride  ?  Surely  so  lovely  a  one  deserves 
such  a  compliment  upon  such  an  occasion." 

Weston  followed  the  example  of  Miss  Anson,  and 
they  both  stood  with  glasses  in  hand.  The  bride 
leaned  towards  Howard  and  whispered  in  his  ear  : 

"  One  glass  —  just  this  once,  for  my  sake,  and  never 
again." 

"Never  again!" 

The  company  started  as  the  words  were  echoed  in 
a  deep  measured  tone  from  some  unknown  source. 
But  no  one  chose  to  speak  of  the  occurrence,  and  Miss 
Anson,  looking  towards  the  spot  where  '  the  parson 
was  standing,  said  : 

"  You,  reverend  sir,  will  have  to  set  this  refractory 
gallant  an  example,  and  with  "VYeston  and  myself, 
drink  to  the  bride.  Should  he  not  drink  ?  " 

Elder  Snyder  stepped  forward  and  took  a  glass. 
Now,  at  the  appeal  of  the  bride,  however,  Howard 
had  reached  out  to  take  one  from  the  server,  when  the 
company  were  again  startled  by  that  mysterious 
voice. 

"Touch  it  not!" 

Elder  Snyder  frowned  and  raised  himself  to  his  full 
height,  as  he  turned  his  eyes  upon  all  in  the  room,  to 
Bee  who  had  dared  to  interrupt  the  charm  which  was 


A   WEDDISG   AT   THE   COTTAGE.  107 

weaving.  Pale  and  embarrassed,  Howard  sat  with 
the  cup  in  his  hand,  that  gaze  still  fixed  upon  some 
scene  hidden  from  the  gaze  of  the  guests.  It  was  a 
scene  for  the  pencil.  The  party  had  gathered  in  a 
group,  the  tall  form  and  dark  features  of  the  false 
teacher,  the  manly-looking  Weston,  and  the  light  form 
of  the  beautiful  Miss  Anson  leaning  slightly  against 
his  shoulder,  the  lovely  bride,  and  the  victim  yielding 
slowly  to  the  coils  which  were  closing  round  him. 
It  was  a  noble  group  of  noble  men  and  fair 
women,  and  yet  one  over  which  a  good  angel  might 
have  wept. 

"This,"  said  the  pastor,  as  he  held  the  glass  be- 
tween his  eyes  and  the  lamp,  "is  one  of  the  good  gifts 
of  God  to  man,  the  blood  of  the  grape,  the  beverage 
of  the  high,  the  noble  and  the  good  of  all  ages.  It  — 

" And  of  the  lost  and  the  damned!" 

All  turned  to  see  whence  came  that  voice,  now 
more  startingly  energetic  and  ringing  with  bitter- 
ness. A  deeper  frown  gathered  on  the  features  of 
Elder  Snyder,  and  he,  in  dogged  tones,  continued  : 

"  It  is  a  beverage  which  our  Saviour  used.  He 
made  it  at  the  wedding  (the  Elder  emphasized  the 
word,)  and  dispensed  it  at  the  last  supper.  The 
Scriptures  plainly  enjoin  the  use  of  wine.  !Noah 
drinked  it,  it  was  given  to  those  that  were  ready  to 
perish,  it  maketh  the  heart  merry,  cureth  our  infirm- 
ities, and  causeth  the  poor  to  forget  his  poverty,  and 
the  afflicted  their  sorrow.  It  gives  a  man  strength 
and  joy,  and  enables  him  to  bear  more  cheerfully  the 


108  MIXXIE    HERMON. 

changing  scenes  of  life.  The  Redeemer  made  and 
drank  wine.  It  would  be  sinful  for 'us  to  set  at 
naught  such  teachings,  and  put  away  so  great  a  bles- 
sing. I  will  drink  to  the  happiness  of  those  whom 
God  has  this  night  joined  together." 

Elder  Snyder  turned  off  the  wine  with  the  air  of 
one  who  expected  all  to  follow  his  example.  And 
they  all  did,  Howard  among  the  rest. 

"  At  last  it  stingeth  like  an  adder  and  biteth  like  a 
serpent  I " 

"Who  is  that?"  angrily  asked  Elder  Snyder,  as 
that  strange  and  startling  voice  again  fell  like  a  ser- 
pent's hiss  upon  the  ears  of  the  company. 

"  The  lost  one  of  a  false  teacher!"  slowly  came 
back  in  reply,  with  more  thrilling  distinctness  than 
before.  All  eyes  were  turned  toward  the  veranda 
window,  where  now  stood  a  tall,  broad-shouldered 
man,  dressed  in  a  coarse  suit  of  sailor's  clothes,  a 
weather-beaten  tarpaulin  on  his  head,  and  his  hair 
standing  out  wiry  and  matted  under  the  broad  brim. 
His  eye  was  grossly  red.  and  was  cast  full  upon  the 
group,  at  last  resting  keenly  and  firmly  upon  Elder 
Snyder.  There  was  a  fearful  intensity  in  the  gaze, 
and  the  sallow  features  of  the  pastor  reddened  and 
glowed  with  increased  anger. 

"From  whence  do  you  come,  and  why  are  you 

Lore  to  intrude  upon  respectable  people?"  angrily 

continued  Elder  Snyder,  as  he  walked  menacingly 

towards  the  window. 

"  Came  from  my  mother's  grave  to  see  a  wine-bib- 


A  WEDDING   AT   THE   COTTAGE.  109 

bing  priest,  and  only  one  glass  at  a  wedding!  — 
Ha,  ha.'" 

The  strange  and  unaccountable  apparition  turned 
away,  and  that  peculiar  wild  and  sneering  laughter 
rung  shrill  upon  the  air,  and  fell  like  an  omen  of  evil 
upon  the  darkened  heart  of  Howard. 

—  "  Only  one  glass  !  "    And  will  it  be  so,  reader  \ 


CHAPTEE   IX. 

FIRST   FRUITS. 

ON  the  morning  after  the  wedding,  Doctor  Howard 
arose  with  an  aching  head  and  troubled  thoughts. 
The  "only  one  glass"  had  been  the  voice    of°the 
tempter;  but  once  launched  on  the  treacnerous  ride, 
he  was  driven  away  from  shore.     Friends  grew  more 
friendly  as  wine  went  round,  and  glass  followed  glass 
until  Howard  —  the  resolute  and  strong-willed  How- 
ard —  reeled  on  his  wedding  night.     He  became  wild 
as  the  subtle  currents  shot  through  his  veins,  and  by 
the  time  the  company  dispersed,  his  garrulous  and 
elavering  nonsense  had  pained  and  mortified  his  truest 
friends.     Yet  not  one  of  them  for  the  first  moment 
felt  that  they  had  contributed  to  the  disgrace  of  their 
friend.     But  such  things  were  not  looked  upon  then 
as  now,  and  the  guests  went  to  their  homes,  mellow 
themselves,  and  as  ready  to  get  mellow  again  on 
the  morrow. 

It  was  early  when  Howard  dressed  himself  and 
passed  out  into  the  cool  morning  air.  Its  breath  was 
grateful  to  his  hot  and  throbbing  brow,  but  it  reached 
not  the  throbbing  thoughts  in  his  heart.  "As  you 
value  your  soul's  interest,  remember  your  mother  — 
never  touch  the  intoxicating  cup  /  »  He  felt  the  words 
of  that  mother  burning  like  a  brand  upon  his  feverish 


A  COMMON  SIGHT  IN  OAKVALE. 


FIKST   FRUITS. 

cheek,  and  her  eyes  looking  into  his  heart.  In  a  let- 
ter left  for  his  perusal,  Howard  had  learned  the  his- 
tory of  his  mother — the  ruin  and  horrible  death  of 
his  father ;  and  it  all  now  came  before  him,  until  he 
shrunk  within  himself  as  from  accusing  spectres. 

The  man  who  never  takes  the  first  step  from  the 
path  of  right  is  never  endangered.  That  step  once 
taken,  others  follow  with  fearful  ease.  The  anchor 
once  lifted  from  the  heart's  integrity,  the  vessel  drifts 
away  before  the  storms  that  beat  in  from  every  quar- 
ter. To-day  a  man  stands  firm,  and  looks  proudly  in 
the  face  of  his  fellows,  and  feels  himself  a  man.  He 
lias  his  own  self-respect.  To-morrow  he  is  for  once 
induced  to  step  aside,  and  like  a  breach  in  the  wall 
the  enemy  comes  in  like  a  flood.  A  trifling  act  in 
itself —  the  one  glass  drinked  with  a  friend,  —  may 
seal  the  fate  of  the  unwary. 

Howard  had  lost  strength.  He  had  been  beaten 
in  the  contest  —  beaten  when  he  felt  that  he  was 
right.  The  idea  of  being  a  drunkard  had  not  yet  oc- 
curred to  him.  It  was  only  his  own  loss  of  firmness 
and  self-respect,  and  a  shadowy  sense  of  some  un- 
known danger,  that  now  weighed  him  down. 

The  festivities  which  followed  the  wedding  were 
not  calculated  to  fasten  the  resolutions  which  were 
giving  away.  "Wine  was  everywhere,  and  everybody 
used  it.  He  himself  began  to  think  that  it  would  be 
a  bold  and  unpardonable  breach  of  custom  to  refuse 
it  with  his  friends.  The  decanter  and  tumbler  seemed 
to  be  the  insignia  of  fashionable  society.  Thus  he 


114:  MINNIE   HEEMON. 

reasoned  as  day  followed  day  and  glass  followed 
glass,  the  strong  and  noble  purpose  which  had  been 
so  sacredly  cherished  to  the  noon  of  his  manhood, 
growing  less  strong  under  the  steady  approaches  of 
the  tempter. 


On  the  day  after  the  meeting  of  the  board,  Howard 
was  riding  rapidly  up  the  road,  when  he  was  accosted 
from  the  steps  of  the  "  Home." 

"  Halloo,  Howard  !  "Where  now  at  that  break-neck 
pace?  Hold'up  a  minute." 

.  The  voice  was  Colonel  Weston's,  and,  as  Howard 
turned  his  head,  he  saw  a  number  of  people  standing 
on  the  stoop.  His  first  impulse  was  to  put  spurs  to 
his  horse,  but  Weston  was  a  favorite  friend,  and  he 
reined  up.  As  Weston  came  up  and  laid  his  hand 
on  the  mane  of  the  horse,  Howard  noticed  that  he 
was  considerably  under  the  influence  of  liquor.  There 
was  a  silly  leer  upon  his  countenance,  and  his  man- 
ner had  that  bold  and  half  insolent  air  about  it,  so 
contrary  to  his  usually  quiet  and  gentlemanly  de- 
meanor. 

"Whoop!  my  (hie)  —  boy,  which  way,  I  say?" 
and  the  Colonel  grasped  tightly  the  arm  of  Howard, 
and  roughly  attempted  to  pull  him  from  the  saddle. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Colonel,  but  you  will  not 
detain  me,  for  I  am  in  haste  to  call  on  a  sick  pa- 
tient. " 


FIRST  FKUTrS.  115 

"Devil  take  your  patient;  you  must  get  off  ana 
take  a  drink,"  and  again,  with  that  strong  grasp  pe- 
culiar to  drunken  men,  Weston  wrenched  him  nearly 
from  his  saddle. 

"You  must  get  off  and  take  a  drink.  Why,  I 
haven't  seen  you  before  since  your  wedding.  Get 
off,  old  boy,  I  say,  and  drink  with  us ! "  and  he 
fetched  Howard  a  heavy  slap  on  the  thigh  with  the 
awkwardness  peculiar  to  those  in  liquor,  and  laughed 
boisterously. 

Howard  was  shocked,  and  mildly  essayed  to  re- 
lease himself  from  the  Colonel's  grasp. 
'  "  No  you  don't,  my  boy  ;  you  must  drink.  Soldiers, 
unhorse  (hie)  him,"  and  he  led  the  horse  up  the  steps 
into  the  stoop,  amid  the  laughter  of  the  half-drunken 
crowd. 

Howard  was  fairly  pulled  from  his  saddle  and  led 
into  the  bar-room  and  the  liquor  called  on. 

"One  drink,  Doctor,  with  your  friends,"  as  he 
bowed  and  played  the  buffoon  before  the  bar.  How- 
ard remained  silent  while  the  liquors  were  mixing. 
As  Weston  took  his  glass  from  the  counter,  he  again 
essayed  to  release  himself  by  pleading  haste  to  see 
his  patient. 

"IsTo  you  don't,  Doctor — you  must  drink  with  us," 
and  he  handed  another  glass  to  Howard. 

The  latter  took  it  mechanically,  and  was  about  to 
set  it  on  the  counter,  when  the  Colonel  grasped  it, 
and,  setting  down  his  own,  wound  his  left  arm  around 
Howard's  neck,  attempted  to  pour  the  liquor  down 


116 


MINNIE   HERMON. 


his  throat.  The  act  was  so  quick  that  the  latter  had 
not  time  to  close  his  mouth  before  the  glass  was  be- 
tween his  teeth,  and  the  liquor  running  down  his  face 
and  neck  into  his  bosom.  He  strangled  badly,  which 
pleased  the  rum-maddened  crowd  all  the  more, 
"Weston  was  wild  with  rum,  and  swore  that  Howard 
should  drink.  The  latter  grew  indignant  and  began 
to  denounce  such  rudeness.  Weston  caught  another 
tumbler  of  the  liquor  which  had  been  prepared,  and 
sprung  upon  Howard  with  all  the  reckless,  frenzied 
strength  of  partial  intoxication,  crowding  the  glass 
against  his  lips  and  teeth  until  the  blood  mingled 
with  the  stains  of  the  brandy  from  the  corners  of  his 
mouth. 

'% !  Doctor,  you  must  take  in  your  bits," 

continued  Weston,  and,  in  the  excitement  of  the  mo 
ment,  he  caught  Howard  by  the  throat,  and  continued 
pushing  the  now  empty  glass  into  his  open  and  bleed- 
ing mouth.  The  crowd  were  all  wild  with  merriment, 
and  stood  upon  the  chairs  and  benches  to  see  the 
sport.  Weston  set  the  glass  down  upon  the  counter 
and  called  for  more  liquor.  Hermon  poured  it  out. 
As  Weston,  with  his  hand  yet  clinched  in  the  Doc- 
tor's cravat,  was  passing  the  glass  again  to  his  lips, 
against  his  indignant  expostulations,  Howard  released 
his  right  arm  from  the  tipsy  fellow  who  was  holding 
it,  and  dealt  Weston  a  blow  on  the  temple  which  laid 
him  prostrate  on  the  floor.  There  was  stillness  for  a 
moment,  and  Howard  was  released  from  the  grasp  of 
those  who  were  holding  him.  A*  Weston  came  to 


FIRST  FKTJITS.  117 

and  began  to  rise,  he  literally  frothed  with  rage,  and 
sprung  at  the  Doctor  like  a  madman.  The  latter 
evaded  his  clutch,  and  he  plunged  headlong  amongst 
the  crowd. 

"  For  shame  !  Are  ye  men  or  devils  ? "  All  were 
startled  at  the  sound  of  a  female  voice,  and,  as  they 
turned,  saw  Minnie  Hermon  standing  in  the  stairway, 
pale  and  trembling,  but  her  eyes  kindling  at  the  scene 
before  her.  A  rocket  could  not  have  produced  more 
confusion  among  them.  The  majority  abruptly  went 
out,  leaving  Weston,  now  abashed  and  cowering,  and 
Hermon,  alone  behind  the  bar.  Howard  washed  his 
face  at  the  pump  and  rode  away,  and,  as  he  thought 
over  the  scene  in  the  bar-room  of  the  "  Home,"  a  sigh 
came  from  his  heart  and  a  tear  from  his  eye.  He 
looked  at  his  bruised  hand,  and  wondered  how  he 
came  to  strike  one  he  esteemed  so  much. 

—  But  there  will  be  stranger  scenes  there. 

Deacon  McGarr  lived  just  below  the  "  Home,"  and 
on  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day  the  affair  occurred 
which  we  have  related,  he  was  to  have  a  wagon-house 
raised.  As  a  matter  of  course,  rum  must  be  had  at  a 
"  raising."  A  two-gallon  jug  was  sent  to  the  "  Home  " 
and  filled,  and  the  hands  invited.  Deacon  McGarr 
had  drinked  liberally  in  the  earlier  part  of  the  day, 
and  felt  happy  and  witty.  About  one  o'clock  the 
hands  began  to  gather,  and  very  naturally  lingered 
on  the  stoop  and  steps  of- the  "Home."  "When  the 
hour  came  for  commencing  operations,  McGarr  came 
over,  and,  for  the  purpose  of  supporting  the  new  tav 


MINNIE   HERMON. 


era,  "  treated  all  round."  In  high  glee  the  company 
then  followed  him  to  the  ground  and  commenced 
operations. 

To  those  who  are  familiar  with  the  drinking  usages 
of  other  days,  we  need  not  speak  in  detail  of  a  "  rais- 
ing." Enough  to  say  that  horns  of  whisky  were 
deemed  just  as  absolutely  necessary  as  pikes  or  pins. 
As  each  "bent"  was  raised  to  its  place,  the  jug  was 
"passed  round"  by  some  boy,  accompanied  by  one 
with  a  pail  of  cold  water.  As  soon  as  a  "  bent  "  was 
raised,  some  of  the  more  active  ones  mounted  to  the 
top.  By  the  time  the  plates  were  ready  to  go  on,  a 
number  were  thus  gathered  above,  and  the  jug  must 
be  passed  up  and  welcomed  by  such.  Before  the 
building  was  all  up,  a  large  class  was  noisy  and 
mellow. 

Among  others  who  first  went  upon  the  frame,  was 
"Weston.  Naturally  athletic,  he  now  felt  doubly  so 
under  the  influence  of  his  deep  potations.  McGarr 
would  have  persuaded  him  from  the  dangerous  risk, 
but  Weston  was  reckless. 

The  plates  were  framed  to  go  on  to  the  ends  of  the 
beams,  requiring  much  care  in  holding  them  and  en- 
tering  the  tenons.  The  timbers  were  yet  damp  from 
the  rain  during  the  night,  and  required  caution  in 
handling  them  without  accident.  The  ends  of  the 
.plates  were  first  carried  up  to  the  beams,  then  car- 
ried forward  and  balanced  up  and  shoved  to  their 
places,  preparatory  to  entering  the  tenons.  When 
ready  to  carry  out,  a  man  lay  down  and  locked  his 


FIRST   FRUITS.  119 

arms  around  the  beam,  and  with  his  feet  against  the 
plate,  pushed  it  as  it  lay,  as  near  the  tenons  as  was 
safe.  Weston  was  at  the  end,  and  straightened  with 
all  his  strength,  and  the  piece  slid  upon  the  slippery 
beam  near  a  foot  and  a  half  clear  from  his  feet.  A  dozen 
voices  from  below  earnestly  cautioned  him  to  be  care- 
ful— if  the  plate  should  go  off  it  would  kill  some  one. 

"  Let  'em  look  out  for  themselves,"  he  replied,  with 
a  peculiar  laugh,  and  again  backed  until  his  feet 
reached  the  timber,  and  then  straightened  with  all 
his  power.  There  was  a  yell  from  twenty  voices  be- 
low, and  the  heavy  stick  fell  to  the  ground.  A  sharp 
cry  of  pain  told  its  effect.  Hermon's  leg  was  under 
it,  and  ground  to  a  pumice.  The  groans  of  the 
wounded  man,  as  he  was  borne  bleeding  to  the 
"  Home,"  sobered  Weston,  as  he  saw  the  result  of  his 
folly,  and  the  big  drops  gathered  on  his  brow.  Si- 
lently and  thoughtfully  he  went  from  the  frame,  and 
passed  after  the  group  to  the  tavern. 

"  Come,  boys,"  said  Gaston,  the  blacksmith,  "  we 
can  do  no  good  over  there,  let's  up  with  the  plate 
again,  and  put  on  the  rafters." 

Another  drink  round  and  they  took  hold  with  a 
will,  for  Gaston  set  them  an  example.  The  stick  was 
soon  in  its  place  and  the  rafters  up. 

Young  McGarr  was  the  last  one  standing  on  the 
ridge.  His  father  saw  that  he  had  drank  too  much, 
and  called  him  down.  He  started  to  obey,  but  met 
the  jug  again  coming  up,  and  took  a  drink  with  the 
rest.  The  hot  draught  made  him  bold  and  reckless,  and 


120  MINNIE   HEEMON. 

he  swore  he  would  walk  the  ridge-pole  with  jug  la 
hand  before  he  left  the  frame.  No  entreaty  or  threat- 
ening could  change  his  mad  determination,  and  he 
clambered  carelessly  to  the  ridge.  They  watched 
him  with  breathless  attention,  for  it  was  plain  to  see 
that  he^was  intoxicated.  Deacon  McGarr  was  pale, 
and  his  lip  was  pressed  between  his  teeth  until  the 
blood  started  from  under  them. 

Young  McGarr  succeeded  in  walking  the  entire 
length,  and,  as  he  arrived  at  the  end,  he  turned,  and, 
swinging  the  jug  in  the  air,  huzza'd  and  turned  it  up 
to  his  lips.     As  he  threw  his  head  back  in  the  act, 
he  fell  from  the  ridge,  his  head  striking  upon  a  green 
beech  log,  and  his  body  doubling  lifelessly  down  in  a 
heap.     McGarr  shrieked  and  jumped  to  save  his  boy, 
and  the  shriek  was  echoed  with  more  piercing,  soul- 
harrowing  distinctness  from   the   house,  where  the 
boy's  mother  had   been   watching  the   scene  with 
trembling  lips  and  limb.     Gaston  lifted  the  boy  in 
his  arms,  leaving  masses  of  his  brains  upon  the  log 
and  ground,  and  the  blood  ebbing  out  with  a  spin- 
ning sound  from   the   crushed  head.     The   mother 
looked  once  upon  the  bleeding  and  disfigured  mass, 
and  sank  insensible  to  the  ground.     On  a  board  the 
crushed  boy  was  borne  to  the  house,  while  equally  a8 
tenderly  the  corpse-like  mother  was  carried  after  in 
the  arms  of  Gaston.     Deacon  McGarr  followed  like  a 
child  in  his  first  great  sorrow.     The  jug  was  left  in 
fragments,  thickly  sprinkled  with  the  blood  of  the 
young  victim. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE   AUTHOB    TALKS A  LAPSE    OF  TEN    TEAKS   IN   OUB 

HISTORY THE   CHANGE. 

IN  one  of  the  villages  of  Pennsylvania  —  it  is  writ- 
ten —  the  members  of  the  excise  board  were  assem- 
bled, as  usual,  for  the  purposes  of  granting  licenses 
for  the  sale  of  intoxicating  liquors.  After  smoking, 
and  chatting  upon  general  subjects  for  a  time,  the 
customary  motion  was  put,  and  opportunity  given  for 
remark.  Up  in  one  corner  of  the  room  the  attenua- 
ted form  of  a  woman  arose,  spectral-like  in  features, 
and  meanly  clad,  and  looking  upon  the  members  pres- 
ent from  sockets  hollow  and  ghastly.  In  tones  of 
sadness,  growing  more  full  and  intense  as  she  pro- 
ceeded, the  strange  intruder  commenced  a  history  of 
sorrow,  of  ruin  and  wrong,  which  fell  upon  the  aston- 
ished group  like  a  spell.  Her  form  raised  as  she 
gathered  strength,  and  her  tones  grew  fierce,  and  a 
hectic  flush  came  out  upon  the  palid  cheek.  Fixed 
to  their  seats  and  gazing  upon  the  kindling  eye,  the 
excisemen  listened  to  the  blistering  record.  From 
the  smouldering  ruins  of  life's  hopes  blasted,  the  sca- 
thing truths  leaped  out.  She  had  heard  of  their 
meeting,  and  from  the  almshouse  came  forth  to  de- 
nounce the  wickedness  they  were  about  to  commit. 
Tiers  had  been  the  history  of  thousands — a  history 


MINNIE   IIEKMON. 

now  being  wrought  out  in  thousands  of  hearts  and 
homes.  Across  the  river,  a  luxurious  home,  a  noble 
husband,  and  three  promising  sons  had  woven  her 
life's  happiness  with  the  golden  woof  of  light  and 
love.  They  were  tempted  and  fell.  The  home  pass- 
ed into  the  tempter's  hands,  her  husband  and  children 
to  premature  graves,  and  she  to  the  pauper's  home. 
Years  of  darkness  and  anguish  could  be  known  only 
to  the  God  of  the  widow  and  the  fatherless.  "  You 
see  me  now,"  she  continued,  with  her  tall  form  lean- 
ing forward  and  her  long  finger  extended  and  trem- 
bling with  emotion,  resting  unerringly  upon  the  mem- 
bers of  the  board,  "  and  know  from  whence  I  come. 
You  know  my  history,  and  hew  bitterly  all  my  hopes 
of  this  world  have  been  wrecked.  And  you,  sirs, 
caused  it  all.  At  your  store  my  husband  learned  to 
drink,  and  you  dwell  in  my  home.  You,  false  teach- 
er," pointing  to  a  deacon,  "  lured  my  noble  boys  to 
your  grocery,  and  they  now  are  in  drunkards'  graves. 

You  destroyed  them.     But  for  you,  husband,  sons 

all  might  have  now  blessed  my  old  age.  I  have  come 
from  the  county  poor-house  to  lift  a  voice  against 
your  acts.  Look  at  me,  and  then  if  you  dare,  before 
high  Heaven,  grant  licenses  to  sell  intoxicating 
drinks!" 

The  silence  of  death  rested  upon  the  listeners  to 
the  pauper's  freezing  words,  interrupted  only  as  one 
after  another  of  the  cowering  officials  stole  like  guilty 
wretches  from  the  room,  not  staying  to  accomplish 
the  work  for  which  they  assembled.  From  her  quiv- 


THE  AUTHOR  TALKS THE  CHANGE.       123 

ering  finger  the  words  had  fallen  like  drops  of  blis- 
tering lava  into  their  coward  hearts. 

As  the  mind  has  swept  back  through  the  history 
of  the  past,  we  have  often  thought  of  the  pauper  and 
her  speech.  If  those  who  suifer  —  if  the  ragged  and 
the  sorrowing,  should  come  from  their  abodes  of 
wretchedness,  where,  unseen,  the  scalding  tear  and  the 
heavy  sigh  mark  the  crushing  progress  of  woe,  and 
in  squalid  garb  and  touching  mien,  gather  around  the 
excise  boards  of  our  country,  and  raise  their  protest 
against  the  wrong,  we  doubt  whether  there  is  a  mem- 
ber of  these  bodies  so  utterly  lo§t  to  every  feeling  of 
sympathy  and  shame  as  to  put  his  name  to  the  license 
of  death.  Let  the  sorrowing  mother  upon  her  staff, 
with  her  thin,  white  hairs,  going  'down  in  sorrow  to 
the  grave,  totter  to  the  board,  and  with  a  dim  eye  and 
shaking  voice,  speak  of  children  murdered,  and  an 
old  heart  running  over  with  bitter  memories.  Let  a 
wife  steal  forth  from  a  home  where  a  husband- 
demon  reigns  in  the  domestic  hell.  Yoked  to  a  living 
corpse,  she  stands  up  with  a  ragged  babe  in  her  arms 
—  a  weeping  heart  attempting  to  shield  the  tenderest 
and  most  innocent  of  her  idols  from  the  storm  —  and 
with  every  hope  buried  in  ruin,  she  demands  why 
her  home  is  desolated,  her  heart  broken,  and  her 
babes  robbed  of  bread.  The  sister  comes,  and  with 
wringing  hands  claims  that  the  noble  and  manly-heart- 
ed brother  should  be  restored,  for  she  has  wept  over 
him  and  clung  to  him  with  a  sister's  changeless  love — • 
her  tears,  and  prayers",  and  holy  affection  weaker  than 


124 


MINNIE    HEBMON. 


the    gossamer  web   against  the  stronger  than  iron 
chains  that  bound  him.     Orphan  children  throng  from 
hut  and  hovel,  and  public  asylum,  and  lift  their  child- 
ish hands  in  supplication,  asking  at  the  hands  of  the 
guilty,  those  who  rocked  their  cradles,  and  fed,  and 
loved  them.     The  maniac  comes,  and  in  insane  gib- 
berish and  glaring  eye,  stares  upon  the  "  Court  of 
Death."    The  murderer,  now  sober  and  crushed,  lifts 
his  manacled   hands,  red  with  blood,  and   charges 
his  ruin  —  his  own  and  his  children's  infamy,  upon 
those  who  commission  the  Angel  of  the  Plague.     The 
felon  comes  from  his  prison  tomb,  the  pauper  from  his 
dark  retreat,  where  rum  has  driven  him  to ,  seek  an 
evening's  rest  and  a  pauper's  grave.     From  the  grave 
the  sheeted  dead  stalk  forth,  and  in  spectral  ranks 
gather  around  the  scene,  the  eyeless  sockets  turned 
upon  the  actors,  and  the  bared  teeth  grinning  most 
ghastly  scorn.     The  lost  float  up  in  shadowy  forms, 
and  wail  in  whispered  despair.     Demons,  who  rejoice 
in  wrongs  which  make  men  more  devilish  than  they, 
blush    at   the   more   than   infernal    wrong.     Angels 
turn  weeping  away,  and  wonder  that  man  can  love 
his  brother  man,  and  still  license  the  destruction  of 
his  hopes  for  two  worlds.     God  upon  his  throne  looks 
in  anger  upon  the  stupendous  iniquity,  and  hurls  a 
woe  upon  the  hand  which  putteth  the  bottle  to  a 
neighbor's  lip  to  make  him  drunken.     Were  every 
excise  board  girt  by  such  an  array,  no  man  on  earth 
would  make  himself  an  instrument  in  all  this  destruc- 
tion.    But  their  guilt  is  really  the  same.     The.injured  . 


THE  AUTHOR  TALKS THE  CHANGE.       125 

old  mothers,  the  wives  and  the  sisters,  are  found 
wherever  rum  is  sold.  The  orphans  plead  eloquently 
in  every  community.  The  asylum,  the  alms-house, 
the  dungeon  and  the  scaffold  bear  their  evidence, 
written  in  the  unmistakable  language  of  tears  and 
blood.  The  dead  heave  their  sodded  graves  on  every 
hand,  and  revelation  turns  shudderingly  away  from 
the  dark  future  of  the  thousands  who  die  as  the 
months  roll  round,  while  above,  a  God  who  counts  the 
sparrows  as  they  fall,  sits  in  judgment  and  takes  note 
of  all.  And  yet  —  we  write  with  a  burning  cheek  — 
the  excise  boards  of  a  free  people  meet  with  cool  in- 
difference and  ask  of  a  reckless  few,  "  How  many 
pieces  of  silver  will  you  give  us  if  we  will  betray  the 
wives  and  the  children  —  the  helpless  and  the  inno- 
cent, into  your  hands  —  How  many  !  "  The  tribute 
is  paid,  and  the  people,  with  the  price  of  blood  in 
their  coffers,  hold  the  garments,  while  their  licensed 
instruments  stone  men,  women  and  children  to  death ! 

— No  sane  man  on  earth,  if  the  fountains  of  evil 
were  forever  sealed,  would  ask  that  they  might  be 
again  opened.  Then  why,  in  the  name  of  crushed 
humanity  and  a  hoped-for  heaven,  will  men  cling  to 
the  waning  destinies  of  the  monster  iniquity  ? 

The  pursuit  of  an  honorable  avocation  is.  a  benefit 
to  community.  In  the  intercourse  of  trade,  there  is 
an  equivalent  rendered.  TJTe  interests  of  the  produ- 
cer and  the  consumer  are  mutually  advanced.  In 
dustry  produces  an  aggregate  prosperity  and  secures 
a  prompt  and  adequate  reward.  Upright  and  perse- 


120 


MINNIE   HEKMON. 


vering  labor,   in   any  branch   of  business,    vibratea 
through  the  whole  social  system,  and  helps  to  build 
up,  adorn,  and  strengthen  every  honorable  interest. 
The  craftsman,  the  merchant,  the  professional  man, 
the  agriculturist— all  who  live  by  honest  toil,  are 
benefactors,  and  each  fills  an  appropriate  and  neces- 
sary place  in  the  social  structure.     There  is  no  special 
regulation  of  these  interests.     They  are  useful  and 
indispensable.     Their  pursuit  tends  to  the  general 
good.     They  do  not  exist  or  prosper  at  the  ruin  or 
extinction  of  others.     The  tradesman  does  not  find 
the  mercantile  profession  a  legalized  monopoly,  and 
himself  precluded,  by  penal  statutes,  from  selling 
such  as  his  neighbors  sell.     Talent  and  application 
master  the  legal  and  the  medical  professions,  and  the 
young  man  goes  out  to  build  up'his  fortunes  where- 
ever  his  prospects  lure  the  brightest.     The  blacksmith 
asks  no  license  to  wield  his  hammer.     The  farmer 
does  not  annually  ask  and  pay  for  a  permit  to  put  in 
his  crops,  to  harvest  and  to  sell.     Whoever  buys  of 
him  gets  an  equivalent  for  his  money ;  and  order,  har- 
mony and  increase,  mark  the  machinery  of  society. 
But  what  a  disturbing  element  is  rum,  in  all  soci- 
ety !     It  is  the  Pandorian  box  of  unadulterated  evil, 
with  hardly  a  hope  at  the  bottom.     Nowhere  on  the 
green  earth  of  God  has  it  proved  other  than  an  un- 
mixed curse.     There  is  not  a  redeeming  fact  in  its 
history.     A  darker,  more  cheerless,  beaconless  waste, 
never  stretched  away  before  the  misguided  pilgrim. 
There  is  not  a  ray  of  sunshine  in  ages  of  gloom.     The 


THE  AUTHOR  TALKS THE  CHANGE.      127 

most  ardent  and  honest  friend  of  the  rum  traffic  can- 
not point  to  one  blessing  it  has  conferred  upon  man 
since  its  first  footprints  cursed  the  earth.  We  have 
seen  the  system  in  its  palmy  days,  but  it  was  the 
plague  in  mid-day  strength,  stalking  from  house  to 
house,  its  presence  withering  the  greenness  of  the 
happiest  life,  and  filling  the  land  with  wailing  and 
unutterable  woe.  Commissioned  by  government,  it 
has  gone  forth,  the  Angel  of  the  Plague,  and  happy 
for  hearts  and  homes,  if  they  mourned  for  none  but 
the  first-born.  In  palace  or  hovel  —  in  wealth  or 
want,  the  shadow  has  fallen  upon  man  and  his  hopes, 
the  one  to  sicken  and  die,  and  the  other  to  wither. 
It  enters  society  branded  as  an  enemy.  The  very  power 
which  sends  it  to  our  villages  and  hamlets,  has  writ- 
ten its  character.  It  glides  over  our  threshold  in  fet- 
ters, society  mockingly  decking  its  tail  with  regula- 
ting enactments,  and  leaving  every  fang  bared  fot 
the  work  of  death,  and  from  tens  of  thousands  of 
retreats  endorsed  and  protected  by  government,  the 
monsters  go  hissing  forth  with  the  injunction  to  deso- 
late and  kill  within  the  prescribed  limits,  and  accord- 
ing to  law.  The  thief  is  imprisoned  and  the  murder- 
er is  put  out  of  the  way  ;  but  here  is  a  worse  than  a 
thief  or  a  murderer  —  the  subtle  embodiment  of  all 
crime,  allowed  to  carry  on  its  devilish  work  under  re- 
etrictions,  and  the  effects  sanctioned  by  legislation. 
It  never  yet  entered  a  community  without  proving  a 
curse.  Some  man  has  been  degraded ;  some  wife 
has  been  made  to  weep  in  anguish  ;  some  child  has 


128  MINXIE   HEKMCHSr. 

been  turned  out  of  door  to  go  hungry  for  bread 
some  pauper  has  been  sent  to  the  almshouse,  or  felon 
to  the  dungeon ;  some  scene  of  blood  and  violence 
has  been  perpetrated,  and  the  maddened  instrument 
sent  to  the  scaffold ;  some  family  has  prematurely 
found  a  rest  in  the  grave,  and  an  escape  from  woes 
which  will  ever  beggar  description. 

Oakvale  was  not  an  exception.     A  lovelier,  more 
peaceful  hamlet  of  happy  settlers,  was  never  hidden 
among  the  hills.     Years  went  by,  and  scarce  a  cloud 
had  fallen  upon  the  cordial  and  friendly  intercourse 
which  had  marked  the  history  of  the  mountain  re 
treat.     The  lives  of  the  people  passed  with  the  calm- 
ness and  purity  of  a  summer's  day.     Scarce  a  ripple 
disturbed  the  sylvan  quiet  of  the  scene.     Inddstry, 
virtue,  integrity  and  kindly  feeling  marked  the  un- 
restrained intercourse  of  the  genial  and  true-hearted 
people.     The  streets  were  quiet,  only  as  stirred  by  th« 
silver-voiced  happiness  of  the  schoolchildren,  and  the 
game  of  ball,  the  wrestle,  or  the  leaping  match,  were 
the  noisiest  sports  which  awoke  the  quiet  of  the  vil- 
lage green.     The  path  to  the  village  church  was  well 
beaten,  and  all  was    neat  about    the    unpretending 
structure.     The  dwellings  wore  an  air  of  comfort  and 
thrift,  and  the  yards  and  grounds  were  neat  and  at- 
tractive.   The  Sunday  school  was  full,  the  Sabbath 
universally  regarded,  and  the  old-fashioned  notions  of 
truth  and  honor  deeply  rooted  in  a  majority  of  hearts. 
Age  was  respected,  and  the  white-haired  grand-sires 
went  down  to  their  graves  like  the  shocks  fully  ripened 


THE  AUTHOR  TALKS THE  CHAXGE.       129 

for  the  harvest.  The  moustache  and  the  rattan  were 
unknown  —  the  dice  table,  and  the  saloon.  The 
young  men  were  stalwart  framed  and  industrious. 
Pianos^  fashionable  calls,  and  indolence  in  the  parlor, 
were  scarcely  known,  and  yet  there  was  true  refine- 
ment ;  and  from  the  kitchen,  full,  rounded  forms  and 
hearts  all  womanly  passed  out  to  mingle  better  cur- 
rents in  the  busy  world.  Litigation  was  unknown  ; 
for  each  minded  his  own  affairs,  kept  his  fences  up, 
kept  his  cattle  and  hogs  within  bounds,  and  treated 
his  neighbor  with  kindness  and  sincerity.  No  gun 
ever  broke  upon  the  Sabbath  stillness,  nor  boisterous 
gathering  filled  the  streets  ;  but  the  seasons  came  with 
their  promise,  and  its  harvest  fulfillment,  their  flocks 
and  herds,  and  household  industry  prospered,  and 
peace,  plenty,  and  contentment,  the  love  of  virtue 
and  the  fear  of  God,  made  Oakvale  a  spot  where  the 
current  of  life  coursed  ever  with  an  even  flow. 

It  was  years  afterwards,  and  when  the  population 
and  business  of  Oakvale  had  greatly  increased,  that 
the  "  Home  "  was  opened  in  the  village.  Ten  years 
more  had  gone  by,  and  what  a  transformation  !  It 
seemed  incredible,  and  the  stranger  who  saw  it  in  its 
earlier  history,  would  look  sadly  upon  the  change,  and 
believe  it  wrought  by  some  infernal  magic.  The 
rural  neatness  and  quiet  were  there  no  more.  The 
"Home"  was  a  floodgate  through  which  a  thou- 
sand pernicious  and  evil  influences  swept  in  upon  the 
society  of  the  peaceful  vale,  a  fatal  undercurrent,  un- 
dermining industry  and  virtue,  and  mingling  the 


130  MINNIE  HEEMON. 

most  corrupting  influences  with,  the  thoughts  and 
habits  of  the  people.  From  occasional  visits  to  the 
tavern,  the  practice  increased,  until  scarce  one  of  the 
male  population,  was  not  in  the  habit  of  spending  his 
evenings  at  the  tavern.  A  love  of  gossip  was  soon 
engendered,  and  every  man's  business  and  conduct 
was  at  times  made  the  subject  of  conversation.  In 
the  conversation  of  the  people,  the  change  was  as 
marked  as  in  everything  else.  As  the  youth  and  the 
children  listened,  they  caught  the  infection,  and  the 
oath,  the  rude  and  coarse  speech,  came  from  mouths 
prematurely  foul  by  bad  example  and  association. 
Ill-breeding  soon  marked  thexlanguage  of  the  boys, 
and  slang  phrases  were  current  and  eagerly  learned 
and  banded  with  a  gusto.  A  low-bred  pettifogger 
had  followed  in  the  wake  of  "  business,"  and  petty 
lawsuits  were  frequent,  and  always  held  at  the  tav- 
ern, drawing  a  crowd  whenever  held.  Fights  were 
of  common  occurrence,  or  petty  disputes  engendered 
in  ill  blood  ;  and  discord  crept  strangely  in  between 
families  where  years  of  uninterrupted  harmony  had 
marked  their  intercourse.  Additional  liquor  shops, 
under  the  euphonious  name  of  "  saloons,"  had  been 
opened,  "  ball-alleys  "  and  "  billiard-rooms."  These 
places  were  a  rendezvous  on  the  Sabbath,  the  youth 
deserting  the  church  for  the  dram-shop.  They  are 
ever  craters  of  obscenity  and  profanity,  and  the  youth 
of  Oakvale  were  fast  graduating  in  these  devilish 
schools.  The  nights  were  occasionally  hideous  with 
unearthly  yelliugs.  Balls  and  "  oyster  parties  "  were 


THE  AUTHOR  TALKS THE  CHANGE.       131 

frequent,  and  respectable  young  men,  at  such  times, 
were  seen  intoxicated.  The  blacksmith  was  often 
seen  setting  upon  the  steps  of  the  "  Home "  in  hia 
leathern  apron,  and  customers  coming  from  his  shop 
after  him.  The  miller  would  leave  his  grist,  and 
staid  farmers  would  turn  aside  from  their  business 
and  drink,  and  spend  an  hour  in  chat.  Company 
and  general  parades  were  now  held  at  Oak  vale,  elec- 
tions, town-meetings,  etc.,  and  drunkenness  was  com- 
mon. Horse-racing,  also,  was  frequent,  and  "  turkey 
shoots,"  raffling  and  drinking,  with  frequent  quarrels, 
and  now  and  then  a  fight,  contributed  to  demoralize 
the  habits  and  foster  the  worst  elements  of  those  en- 
gaged in  them. 

"  Business  "  had  surely  increased  in  Oakvale,  and 
to  the  tavern  belonged  the  credit.  The  change 
wrought  in  a  few  years  was  broad  and  impressive,. 
The  farms  were  neglected,  the  fences  out  of  repair, 
and  the  yards  and  corners  of  the  fences  grown  up 
to  weeds.  The  barns  and  outhouses  were  dilapida- 
ted—  boards  off,  and  hovels  unroofed.  Hardly  a 
farm  retained  the  well-ordered  and  tidy  appearance 
of  industrious  care,  so  conspicuous  at  the  commence- 
ment of  our  history.  Clap-boards  were  off,  chimney 
tops  crumbling  away,  and  window-panes  broken,  old 
hats  and  rags,  and  pieces  of  board,  indicating,  in  un- 
mistakable language,  the  cause  of  aU.  Some  houses 
were  entirely  in  ruins,  and  the  rank  dock  standing 
thickly  in  the  yard,  and  the  winds  of  winter  whistling 
through  the  shattered  structures.  Fences  were  down 


132  MINNIE   ITERMON. 

and  fields  t  irned  to  waste ;  the  path  to  the  church 
was  overgrown  with  grass,  and  the  sheds  were  falling 
to  pieces,  and  the  steps  decaying,  and  the  weather- 
beaten  blinds  unhinged,  or  slamming  in  the  winds. 
The  topmost  section  of  the  steeple  had  rotted  and 
been  blown  off  in  a  storm,  and  the  bell,  rusty  and 
bare,  frowned  silently  down  upon  the  general  deso- 
lation. The  lightning-rod  had  been  broken,  and  the 
end  swung  loose  and  unconnected.  The  village  bu- 
rial-ground had  not  escaped.  Length  after  length 
of  the  board  fence  had  fallen,  and  the  cattle  from 
the  streets  had  broken  the  stones,  and  the  hogs  had 
rooted  over  the  grounds.  Unruly  boys  had  torn 
away  the  school-house  shed,  while  whole  clapboards 
had  been  stripped  from  the  building  itself,  the  lath 
and  the  protruding  mortar  and  naked  studs,  present- 
ing to  the  passer-by  the  very  picture  of  neglect. 

But  if  the  footsteps  of  intemperance  were  so  blight- 
ing upon  the  appearance  of  buildings  and  fields,  it 
was  still  more  marked  upon  the  population.  The 
pathways  to  the  groggeries  were  well  beaten  by  the 
traveling  public.  Farms,  shops  and  professions,  were 
neglected.  The  happiest  home  had  lost  its  attrac- 
tions. The  ruddy  flame  upon  the  evening  hearth,  the 
holy  communion  of  the  family  circle,  or  the  change- 
less ties  of  conjugal  affection,  were  rent  like  threads 
for  the  false  light  of  the  dramshop.  Even  the  church 
could  not  stay  the  work  ;  its  aisles  had  long  been  si- 
lent ;  the  dust  had  gathered  upon  its  communion 
altar  and  its  Bible,  and  the  spider  spun  his  web  in  the 


THE  AUTIIOK   TALKS THE   CHANGE.  133 

pulpit  unmolested.  Forms  with  red  and  watery  eyes, 
hats  with  torn  crowns,  broken  tops  and  distorted 
brims  ;  garments  thread-bare  and  ragged,  the  panta- 
loons fagged  at  the  ancle  and  lodged  upon  gringy- 
looking  boots  run  over  at  the  heel ;  with  swollen 
cheeks,  and  hands  thrust  to  the  elbows  into  their 
pockets,  were  constantly  stealing  to  the  dram-shops. 
By  daylight,  and  before  a  chimney  top  had  sent  up  a 
wreath  of  smoke,  they  could  be  seen  standing  by  the 
dens,  or  knocking  for  admittance,  creeping  about  over 
the  stoops  in  the  meantime,  and  shivering  in  tho 
keen  morning  cold  of  the  winter.  How  quickly 
their  ears  detected  the  sound  of  the  bolt  as  it  was 
drawn,  and  as  quickly  tossing  the  quid  into  the  street 
and  fetching  their  hand  across  their  thigh  as  a  nap- 
kin, cleared  their  throats  and  entered.  They  came 
out  with  the  palms  drawn  across  their  lips,  gave  the 
hoarse  ahem,  and  in  the  same  manner  retraced  their 
steps  to  their  doors.  "Women,  with  countenances  pale 
and  furrowed  with  sorrow  and  care,  and  wrapped 
closely  in  scanty  garb,  were  seen  gliding  gloomily 
through  the  streets ;  and  children,  their  uncovered 
hands  purple  in  the  cold,  and  their  little  forms  shrink- 
ing at  every  breath,  and  often  bending  under  the 
burden  of  the  jug,  thus  bearing  to  their  own  homes 
the  cause  of  their  own  wretchedness  and  hunger. 

"Business"  had  increased  !  Oakvale  had  become 
a  shire  town,  and  two  railroads  had  opened  broad 
thoroiighfares  to  and  from.  A  courthouse  and  jail 
had  been  erected,  and  the  new  state-prison  buildings 


134:  MINNIE   HEEMON. 

were  rapidly  going  up.  Men  had  died  in  the  drunk- 
en  brawl,  by  delirium  tremens,  and  in  the  winter's 
path  ;  the  widow  and  her  children  had  gone  out  from 
their  broken  homes  to  seek  an  asylum  in  the  county 
poor-house  ;  felons  were  in  the  jail,  or  at  work  on  tho 
prison  walls,  and  red-handed  murder  had  lifted  a  drip- 
ping hand  at  noonday,  and  the  people  were  feasted 
with  a  view  of  the  scaffold  and  its  dangling  tribute. 
A  score  of  groggeries  were  seething  and  united  in  the 
work  of  ruin,  and  Oakvale  had  become  a  byword  and 
reproach  throughout  the  country  for  drunkenness  and 
all  its  consequent  and  kindred  evils.  The  change  was 
a  sad  one,  indeed.  And  yet  no  plague  had  come 
from  the  hand  of  God  to  destroy  the  people  ;  no  storm 
had  swept  down  their  fences  or  unroofed  their  barns 
and  hovels ;  and  the  seasons  had  ever  brought  the 
seed  time  and  harvest.  But  the  blight  was  there.  It 
rested  upon  house,  and  field,  and  toil ;  hunger  and 
wretchedness  brooded  at  the  hearth  ;  families  were 
scattered,  and  fields  turned  to  waste  ;  and  want,  mis- 
ery, indolence  and  vice  resting  like  a  deathly  night- 
mare upon  the  quiet  and  happy  hamlet  of  "  long  ago." 
—  "  Business  "  was  increasing  1 


CHAJPTEK   XI. 

A   WINTER    SCENE. 

IT  \vas$  in  early  winter,  and  the  hubs  lay  up  rough 
and  bare  through  the  snow.  The  wind  was  cutting 
cold,  and  shrieked  dismally  as  it  swept  around  the 
"  Home."  Scattering  flakes  of  snow  were  sifting  from 
the  cold  and  sombre  sky.  People  were  already  gath- 
ering in  the  bar-room,  for  nearly  every  citizen  in  the 
place  had  learned  to  love  his  drams ;  and  the  fire 
shone  most  welcomely  in  the  old-fashioned  hearth. 
Hermon,  just  recovered,  in  a  measure,  from  a  severe 
fit  of  sickness,  was  kneeling  before  a  keg,  drawing 
his  morning  bitters.  One  after  another  the  customers 
went  up  to  the  bar  and  followed  the  example,  con- 
versation flowing  more  fluently  as  the  liquor  com- 
menced its  effects. 

"  Did  you  see  Mat  Kicks  when  he  went  away  last 
night  ? " 

"Yes  — what  of  it?" 

""Why,  he  was  most  devilish  drunk,  if  Pm  any 
judge." 

"  No  live  man  a  better  judge,"  dryly  remarked  old 
Barney  Kits,  already  intoxicated,  and  his  lidless  balls 
running  water  before  the  fire.     A  laugh  followed  the 
hit,  and  the  speaker  continued  : 
6 


136  MINNIE   HERMON. 

"  Old  Ricks  has  made  a  perfect  fool  of  himself 
lately.  He  drinks  like  a  fish.  They  say  he  abuses 
his  family,  too,  most  shamefully." 

"  He  is  not  the  only  one  who  does  that,"  again  put 
in  old  Kits.  Lame  Tim,  the  speaker,  turned  an  angry 
eye  upon  his  tormentor,  and  chewed  his  tobacco 
nervously  ;  yet  he  dare  not  measure  wit  with  the  in- 
veterate wag,  as  drunk  as  he  was. 

"  How  is  it,  Tim,"  asked  Gaston,  "  has  old  Ricks' 
farm  all  gone  ?  " 

"  O,  yes,  all  gone  to  smash  ;  —  nothing  left  at  all. 
J  knew  't  would  be  so." 

"  But  his  wife  had  property  ? " 

"  "Went  with  the  rest.     Jones  has  got  it  all." 

"  Sold  his  water  and  whisky  well,"  put  in  old 
Barney. 

"  But  what  will  become  of  his  family  ? " 

"  Go  to  the  poor-house,  of  course.  I  guess  the  old 
woman  will  come  down  some  in  her  notions  after  this. 
Always  was  mighty  nice  feelin'.  After  all,  I  could  n't 
help  kind  o'  pittyin'  on  her  when  she  came  down  here 
and  cried,  and  took  on  so  about  the  spoons  her  mother 
gave  her  —  swow  I  could  n't." 

A  scowl  from  old  Hennon  told  garrulous  old  Tim 
that  he  had  gone  too  far,  and  he  changed  the  subject 
by  taking  another  drink. 

Doctor  Howard  at  that  moment  drove  up,  and  en- 
tered the  bar-room  in  his  bundle  of  furs,  calling  for  a 
hot  punch.  While  warming  himself,  he  remained 
silent  and  thoughtful.  This  was  enough  for  Tim 


A  WINTER  SCENE.  137 

He  must  know  who  was  sick,  what  ailed  him,  and 
how  long  they  were  going  to  live ;  and  with  a  pre- 
paratory ahem,  he  commenced : 

"  Anybody  sick  this  morning,  Doctor  ? " 

"  No  more  than  usual." 

"I  thonght  ma'be  somebody  might  be  ailin'  this 
mornin'." 

"  I  presume  there  is,"  and  the  sententious  Doctor 
continued  to  rub  his  hands  before  the  welcome  blaze. 

"  Come  from  over  the  hill  ? " 

"  Came  from  over  the  hill." 

Old  Barney  grinned,  and  attempted  to  wink  at  the 
discomfited  Tim.  But  the  latter  loved  news  next  to 
a  dram,  and  he  returned  to  the  attack. 

"  Plaguy  cold  this  morning,  Doctor  !  " 

"  Exactly  —  found  that  out  myself." 

"  Anybody  sick  over  the  hill  ? " 

"Nobody  sick — all  dead." 

"  Why,  nobody  but  old  Ricks'  folks  lived  there. ' 

"Exactly  —  and  the  folks  are  dead,  or  will  be." 

"  You  don't  say  so !     How  'd  they  die  ? " 

"  Go  and  see,"  and  with  the  curt  answer,  Doctor 
Howard  jumped  into  his  sleigh  and  left. 

There  was  truth  in  his  briefly  told  story.  On  the 
previous  evening,  Ricks,  with  his  father,  an  old  rev- 
olutionary soldier,  had  caroused  at  the  "  Home  "  un- 
til a  late  hour,  and  with  a  jug  apiece,  had  started  out 
in  the  storm,  amid  many  a  drunken  gibe  as  they  stum- 
bled over  the  hubs.  In  crossing  the  mountain  at  day- 
light, Doctor  Howard  had  found  the  old  man,  lying 


J.38  MINNIE   HEKMON. 

upon  his  face,  frozen  to  death  !  He  had  struggled 
where  he  had  fallen  until  the  hubs  were  crimsoned 
with  blood,  and  his  face  most  horribly  bruised.  His 
hat  lay  crushed  under  his  shoulders,  and  the  handle 
of  the  broken  jug  was  grasped  firmly  in  death.  The 
enow  had  lodged  in  his  thin  white  locks,  but  his  bald 
head  was  as  bare  to  the  night  blast  as  the  crag  above 
him.  Doctor  Howard  turned  his  horse  and  drove 
over  the  brow  of  the  hill  to  the  dwelling.  A  childish 
voice  bade  him  "  come  in,"  in  answer  to  his  rap,  and 
as  he  entered,  crept  into  the  farther  corner. 

Doctor  Howard  was  used  to  scenes  of  distress,  but 
he  hesitated  on  the  threshold,  and  stared  for  a  full 
moment  as  he  stood.  It  was  but  a  moment,  however, 
and  he  quickly  asked  the  boy  what  it  all  meant.  He 
only  answered  with  a  frightened  look  towards  the 
bed.  There  lay  Ricks,  snoring  in  the  deep  slumbers 
of  drunkenness,  his  clothes  on,  and  the  uncorked  jug 
before  him  upon  the  stand.  At  the  foot  of  the  bed 
was  a  spectacle  to  freeze  the  blood.  Stretched  at  full 
length  was  Mrs.  Ricks,  and  upon  the  floor,  mats  of 
hair,  its  whitish  blue  ends  indicating  its  violent 
wrenching  from  the  living  head.  It  had  been 
wrenched  from  her  head,  and  the  bloody  scalp  lay 
bare  in  hideous  spots.  Above  the  ear  the  blade  of 
the  iron  fire-shovel  had  cleft  the  skull,  driving  the 
hair  into  the  brain,  and  splitting  the  ear  through  the 
rim.  The  blood  had  oozed  out  and  ran  down  into 
the  eye,  where  it  was  now  frozen,  the  other  glaring 
wildly  in  death  and  co  vered  with  frost. 


A   WINTER   SCESTE.  139 

"  "Who  did  this  ? "  asked  Howard  of  the  boy,  as  he 
Drushed  a  tear  from  his  eye. 

"  Father  !  "  whispered  the  child,  creeping  stealthily 
to  the  Doctor's  side  and  looking  from  behind  him 
towards  the  bed,  and  then,  with  his  gaze  still  on  the 
sleeping  drunkard,  he  stole  behind  an  old  partition, 
and  with  wild  eyes  and  bloodless  lips  brought  some- 
thing away  in  his  hands,  and  scarce  noticed  by  the 
Doctor,  laid  it  by-  the  side  of  the  dead  mother. 
Turning  his  eye  at  the  moment,  Howard  started  as  at 
the  sight  of  a  serpent.  There  was  the  elbow  and 
hand  and  little  foot  of  a  babe  ! 

"  For  God's  sake !  what — what  is  this  ?"  he  asked, 
as  he  stooped  to  be  sure  that  his  eyes  did  not  deceive 
him. 

"Father — father,"  whispered  the  child,  still  keep- 
ing his  gaze  upon  the  bed  —  "  threw  baby  out  of  the 
bed  'cause  it  cried,  and  then  into  the  fire,  and  then 
struck  me  'cause  I  screamed." 

The  tale  —  the  sight,  was  horrible,  and  it  was  no 
dream  ;  and  there  lay  the  imbruted  murderer  in  his 
slumbers.  Howard  spoke  sharply  in  the  ear  of  the 
drunkard,  but  it  was  difficult  to  awake  him.  The 
moment  he  did  awake,  he  called  for  Henry  to  hand 
him  liquor.  Ere  Howd,rd  was  aware,  the  terrified 
boy  had  taken  the  jug,  when  a  fearful  oath  from  his 
father  startled  him  so  suddenly  that  he  dropped  the 
jug  upon  the  floor. 

"  Hell  !  "  now  roared  the  thoroughly  awakened  sot, 
and  caught  the  boy  violently  by  the  arm.  Henry 


14:0  MINNIE   HERMON. 

screamed  with  agony,  and  Howard  noticed  that  the 
arm  was  broken  above  the  elbow  and  turned  unre- 
sistingly in  the  cruel  grasp.  It  required  but  a  mo- 
ment to  arrest  the  act,  yet  with  that  strange  tena- 
city which  characterizes  the  drunkard's  grasp,  it  bid 
defiance  to  his  strongest  effort.  But  he  was  not  a 
man  to  stand  upon  trifles,  while  the  tortured  child 
•was  shrieking  in  agony.  Fastening  upon  Ricks' 
throat,  he  retained  his  grasp  until  the  bloated  cheek 
became  black,  and  his  hold  on  the  boy's  arm  relaxed. 
Moving  the  boy  to  the  corner,  he  hastily  went  out  to 
his  cutter  for  his  saddle-bags,  thinking,  in  his  excite- 
ment, to  set  the  arm  before  it  should  be  worse  swol- 
len. The  horse  was  restless  from  standing  in  the  cold, 
k\id  as  he  stepped  into  the  cutter,  the  horse  started 
upon  a  gallop,  the  reins  about  his  heels,  and  kept  it 
unbroken  until  he  turned  up  under  the  shed  of  the 
"  Home."  In  a  moment  Howard  had  the  reins,  and 
was  urging  his  way  again  up  the  hill  at  full  speed. 
He  hastily  entered  the  house,  when  hell  itself  could 
not  have  presented  a  view  more  devilish.  The  drunk- 
ard was  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  his  red 
eyes  glaring  with  a  demoniac  expression,  and  his  teeth 
clenched  like  a  madman's. 

"  They'll  never  worry  me  again  about  bread,  G — d 
d — n  'em.  I  '11  learn  the  cussed  brat  to  break  jugs," 
and  more  language  of  the  same  nature  poured  from 
the  maniac. 

"  They"  would  beg  for  bread  no  more  !  They  were 
beyond  the  "  reach  of  -worldly  wants  or  worldly  sor- 


A  WINTER   SCENE.  14:1 

rows.  In  the  brief  absence  of  the  Doctor,  the  drunk- 
en man  had  caught  his  boy,  and  as  it  appeared,  had, 
by  repeated  blows,  dashed  his  head  against  the  fire- 
place jams  until  his  skull  was  crushed  into  a  mass  of 
blood  and  brains,  and  flung  him  across  the  corpse  of 
the  mother.  The  frame  of  the  child  was  quivering 
yet,  and  the  one  hand  even  clutched  convulsively  at 
empty  air,  as  he  straightened  out  with  a  tremulous 
movement  and  lay  still  upon  his  mother's  breast. 

The  news  of  the  tragedy  at  Ricks',  was  speedily 
spread  through  the  community,  embellished  with 
many  a  horror,  until  the  public  feeling  ran  high 
against  Ricks.  The  landlord  of  the  "  Home  "  was 
sure  that  hanging  was  too  good  for  him. 

While  people  were  talking  about  the  affair,  a  kind 
hand  had  been  at  its  work  of  love  in  the  house  of 
blood.  Mrs.  Ricks  was  found,  on  again  visiting  the 
house,  neatly  arrayed  upon  her  bed,  and  her  child  be- 
side her,  her  wounds  washed  and  dressed,  and  the 
crushed  skull  of  the  child  hidden  in  his  shroud.  It 
needed  iron  nerves  to  look  upon  such  work,  and  yet 
a  gentle  hand  had  removed  the  more  revolting  evi- 
dences of  the  murder,  and  restored  order  to  the  deso- 
late looking  room.  The  hand  and  foot  of  the  babe 
had  been  placed  by  the  mother's  side,  and  the  visitor 
gone.  When  the  citizens  came  through  the  blinding 
storm,  they  looked  with  surprise  upon  the  calm  fea- 
tures of  Mrs.  Ricks,  pale,  but  without  stain  of  blood, 
and  the  floor  and  room  exhibiting  no  signs  of  the 
tragedy  so  recently  enacted. 


14:2  MINNIE   IIERMON. 

—  Sweet  Minnie  Hermon !  In  that  chamber  of 
death  she  kneeled,  and  with  the  cold  browed  and 
bloody  dead  her  company,  prayed  that  the  blood 
of  the  innocent  might  not  rest  too  darkly  on  a 
father's  hand.  The  bitter  storm  was  unheeded  as 
it  swept  against  her  feverish  cheek,  on  her  re- 
turn, for  her  young  heart  was  full  of  sorrow.  As 
vivid  as  the  language  of  fire  it  burned  before  her,  that 
to  the  influence  and  liquor  of  the  "  Home  "  could  be 
traced  the  ruin  and  destruction  of  the  Ricks  family. 

The  funeral  of  the  Kicks  family  was  one  of  more 
than  usual  solemnity.  From  the  grey-haired  grand- 
sire  to  the  innocent  babe,  rum  had  swept  them  away 
at  a  blow.  A  large  crowd  had  gathered,  for  the  triple 
murder  had  thrilled  through  the  community  far  and 
near.  The  dead  were  buried  in  one  grave,  its  wide 
and  frozen  walls  silently  awaiting  to  enclose  this 
fresh  and  fearfully  generous  tribute  to  the  remorseless 
scourge  let  loose  in  the  valley.  The  snow  was  falling 
fast  from  the  thick  gloomy  clouds,  and  the  bottom  of 
the  wide  pit  was  already  shrouded  with  white,  all 
combining  to  render  the  scene  solemn  and  cheerless. 
There  was  but  one  relative  of  the  family  living,  and 
that  was  the  loved  and  broken-hearted  father.  He 
had  been  brought  from  the  jail  in  the  custody  of  offi- 
cers, and  now  stood,  his  head  bared  to  the  storms, 
and  his  hands  in  irons.  The  scalding  tears  bitterly 
rained  down  his  ghastly  cheeks  and  upon  his  fettered 
hands,  and  his  broad  chest  heaved  with  convulsive 


A  WINTER   SCENE.  1-13 

efforts,  which  shook  him  as  the  blast  "would  shake  the 
reed.  He  wrung  his  clenched  hands  until  the  blood 
started  from  the  swollen  fingers,  and  moaned  as  ho 
stood,  a  blasted  thing  in  his  manhood's  prime,  the 
fetter  links  clanking,  but  in  his  soul  the  iron  had  gone 
the  deepest.  Those  who  had  heard  the  story  of  his 
crime  and  -heaped  bitter  denunciations  upon  his  head, 
now  looked  upon  the  wretch  in  his  agony,  and  wept 
for  him.  There  were  mourners  at  the  wintry  grave. 
Minnie  was  there,  crushed  with  grief;  for,  in  a  hun- 
dred visits  to  the  drunkard's  home  on  the  hill,  on  er- 
rands of  mercy,  she  had  learned  to  love  the  lovely 
woman  who  had  suffered  so  much,  and  a  sister  could 
not  have  wept  more  bitterly  at  a  sister's  grave.  How- 
ard, too,  stood  a  child  by  her  side,  and  with  his  hand- 
kerchief at  his  mouth,  looked  through  swimming 
eyes  upon  the  scene. 

As  the  coffins  were  placed  upon  the  timbers  over 
the  grave,  Ricks  raised  his  arms  high  over  his  head, 
and  dropped  upon  his  knees,  bringing  his  manacled 
hands  heavily  down  upon  the  coffin  of  his  wife,  the 
dead  sound  from  within,  and  the  clash  of  his  irons, 
mingling  dismally  with  a  shriek  which  chilled  with 
its  fierce  energy  of  woe. 

"  Mary  !  —  O,  Mary  1  My  children  i  How  I  loved 
ye!  Destroyed  by  my  own  hand!  Merciful  God! 
here  let  me  die,  and  be  buried  with  them  ! " 

The  grave  was  filled  by  a  score  of  hard  hands,  and 
many  were  the  warm  tear,  that  wet  them  as  they  toi.od. 


144  MINNIE  HERMON. 


Elder  Snyder  stepped  forward  and  returned  thanks 
to  the  people  for  their  kindness,  and  prayed  that  God 
would  sanctify  to  the  people  this  most  "  afflicting  dis- 
pensation of  Providence" 

''  A  providence  of  RUM,  inflicted  by  human  devils  /" 

Turning  to  see  from  whence  those  strange  tones, 
the  unknown  in  the  tarpaulin,  was  recognized,  lean- 
ing upon  a  head-stone,  his  red  eje  fixed  upon  the 
speaker.  The  latter  turned  quickly  away  and  passed 
out  with  the  crowd. 

Howard  lingered  a  moment,  and  alone  sobbed  as 
he  watched  the  old  sexton  place  the  rough  boards  at 
the  head.  His  thoughts  were  busy.  He  remembered 
the  night  of  his  wedding  —  the  jeweled  hand  which 
crowded  the  wine  upon  him,  and  the  lovely  features 
which  then  were  the  admiration  of  all.  The  beauti- 
ful and  rarely  accomplished  Miss  Anson  was  under 
the  clods  before  him  ! 

Sick  at  heart,  he,  too,  turned  away,  with  new 
thoughts  busy  in  his  mind. 


CHAPTER    XII. 


THREE  MEETINGS,     AND     WHAT     WAS    SAID  -  A    PRAYEH 
ANSWERED. 


events  of  the  last  few  days  furnished  fruitful 
themes  fur  conversation  for  many  a  day.  The  public 
mind  was  intensely  aroused  to  the  enormity  of  the 
triple  murder,  and  nearly  all  united  in  unmeasured 
condemnation  of  the  wickedness  of  Ricks.  Custom 
in  the  bar-room  of  the  "  Home  "  was  better  than  usual, 
for  there  was  a  morbid  desire  to  hear  and  talk  over 
the  matter,  and  the  particulars  of  the  aft'air  were  de- 
tailed for  the  hundredth  time.  Men  stood  with  their 
glasses  in  trembling  hands,  and  argued  wisely  upon 
this  or  that  phase  of  the  transaction. 

The  faults  of  Ricks  were  now  as  plain  as  midday  ! 
Men  who  ha'd  feasted  upon  his  too  generous  nature, 
turned  to  give  him  a  stab.  He  was  always  ugly,  es- 
pecially when  in  liquor  —  was  passionate  and  quarrel- 
some. It  was  a  wonder  that  he  had  not  come  to  some 
bad  end  before. 

Howard  had  been  sitting  along  time  silent  with  his 
face  buried  in  his  hand,  and  his  feet  braced  against 
the  fire-place.  The  remarks  of  the  last  speaker 
aroused  him,  and  turning  quickly  upon  the  latter,  he 
oroke  in  : 


146  MINNIE   HEKMON. 

"  When  was  James  Ricks  an  ugly  or  passionate 
man  ?  When  did  he  ever  wrong  any  man  or  woman 
until  carried  away  by  his  accursed  appetite  for  liquor? 
When  was  he  otherwise  than  high-minded,  noble  and 
kind?  Never,  unless  intoxicated.  1  knew  him  — 
have  known  him  for  years.  A  truer  or  kinder  friend, 
a  more  affectionate  or  amiable  husband,  or  indulgent 
father  before  he  took  to  drink,  never  lived  in  this 
community.  You  know  it.  You  know,  too,  whom 
he  married,  and  what  they  both  were  in  this  com- 
munity. You  know,  too,  that  he  had  wealth.  Men 
who  have  fed  upon  his  bounty  should  not  be  eager  to 
add  to  the  weight  which  crushes  the  stricken  crimi- 
nal. He  is  guilty  of  crime,  yet  as  God  is  my  judge, 
James  Ricks,  in  his  right  mind,  would  no  more  have 
done  what  he  has,  than  I  would,  and  but  for  rum^ 
would  now  be  as  guiltless.  Young  Bray  ton  was  right. 
Our  tavern  will  prove  a  curse  instead  of  a  Messing" 

Hermon  was  stung,  and  retorted  from  his  bar  with 
a  sneer,  with  his  hand  upon  a  customer's  glass  : 

"  You  had  better  start  one  of  these  Temperance 
Societies,  as  they  call  them.  Another  drink  would 
make  you  eloquent !  " 

"Herman !  "  thundered  the  Doctor  as  he  strode 
towards  the  former  and  struck  his  clenched  fist  upon 
the  bar,  with  an  unusual  light  in  his  inflamed 
eyes,  "  I  shall  never  take  another  drink  from  your 
hand!  I've  seen  enough.  But  for  your  liquor, 
James  Ricks  would  be  now  at  his  old  home,  in  the 
bosom  of  his  family,  an  honored  and  respected  citizen." 


THREE   MEETINGS.  147 

/ 

"  So  you  mean  to  charge  me  with  the  death  of  his 
family?  "  fiercely  demanded  Hermon. 

"  I  charge  it  upon  the  liquor  that  he  obtained  at 
your  bar." 

"That  was  his  own  business,  and  not  mine." 

"  But,  sir,  you  know  that  he  was  beggaring  his 
family,  and  abusing  them  shamefully." 

"  Permit  me  to  say  to  you,  Mr.  Howard,  that  that 
was  no  business  of  mine.  It's  my  business  to  sell 
liquor.  No  body  is  obliged  to  buy  or  drink  it  unless 
they  choose." 

"  Very  true.  But  you  know  he  had  no  control 
over  himself  when  in  liquor." 

"  I  tell  you  again,  that  is  no  affair  of  mine.  I  am 
no  man's  guardian.  Men  have  a  right  to  drink  if  they 
see  fit,  and  I've  a  right  to  sell." 

"And  I've  a  right  to  say  what  I  think  of  the 
matter.  You  took  a  ring  from  little  Henry  Ricks 
which  you  knew  was  the  wedding  ring  of  his  mother, 
and  let  him  have  whisky  when  you  knew  that  Ricks 
had  driven  his  wife  out  of  doors,  and  to  the  neighbors 
for  protection.  Was  that  as  you  would  wish  other 
men  to  do  by  your  family  ?  " 

"  I  ain't  a  drunkard,  sir,"  retorted  Hermon,  with 
excitement.  "  I'm  not  bound  to  oversee  my  neigh- 
bors' affairs.  People  had  better  mind  their  own  ~busi 
ness"  he  continued,  with  meaning  emphasis. 

"  I  understand  your  threat,  sir  ;  I've  seen  enough 
of  your  tavern  :  it  has  prospered  too  well  for  this  vil- 
lage. J  have  seen  more  suffering  and  wretchedness 


148  MINNIE  HEEMON. 

and  sorrow  since  you  opened  this  house,  than  I  ever 
saw  before  in  my  life.  Ricks'  was  not  the  only  fam- 
ily to  whom  I  have  carried  bread  and  given  my 
practice  to  save  from  hunger  and  death.  Light 
breaks  in  upon  me.  I  see  where  it  ai'  comes  from, 
and  I  shall  attend  sufficiently  to  my  " own  business" 
Mr.  Hermon,  hereafter,  to  let  your  liquor  alone,  or 
else  my  property  will  go  where  Ricks'  has  gone,  and 
my  family  be  left  to  suffer,  as  I  and  yourself,  sir,  know 
that  his  has  suffered.  As  God  is  my  judge,  I'll  drink 
no  more  forever  !  Good  morning,  sir  !  " 

Had  a  thunderbolt  fallen  upon  that  bar-room  floor, 
the  astonishment  c»uld  not  have  been  greater.  The 
befuddled  intellects  were  too  misty  to  see  the  plain 
truths  hinted  at  by  Dr.  Howard,  but  they  could  easily 
see  that  he  was  a  very  hasty-spoken  man,  and  had 
acted  like  a  fool.  Drink  nothing !  It  was  one  of  the 
wildest  ideas  ever  thought  of,  and  a  temperance  man 
of  this  day  would  wonder  at  the  remarks  made  by 
those  in  the  bar-room,  after  Howard  left.  All  conclu- 
ded that  he  acted  like  a  madman,  and  had  abused 
Mr.  Hermon  most  shamefully.  There  was  not  the 
least  harm  in  the  world  in  drinking  ardent  spirits  — 
it  was  necessary.  Because  a  man  now  and  then  made 
a  fool  of  himself,  so  harmless  a  beverage  should  not 
be  talked  so  about.  The  Doctor  was  generally  a  man 
of  intelligence,  and  it  was  a  wonder  what  had  got 
into  him  to  make  him  act  so ;  —  he  ought  to  know 
better.  Guess  when  he  got  cooled  off  he  would  come 
round  right.  So  Hermon  thought,  although  the 


THKEE   MEETINGS. 

words  of  the  Doctor  chafed  him  more  than  he  was 
willing  to  acknowledge  even  to  himself.  Yet  he  cer- 
tainly could  not  be  held  responsible  for  what  others 
did ;  —  each  one  must  look  out  for  himself.  If  old 
Kicks  had  not  made  a  fool  of  himself,  he  would  not 
have  been  where  he  was.  He  had  never  taken  any 
thing  from  Ricks  without  he  had  paid  a  full  price 
for  it.  It  wasn't  his  business  to  dictate  how  men 
should  spend  their  property.  Such  men  were  his 
best  customers,  and  if  he  should  refuse  to  sell  them 
liquor,  kis  business  would  not  be  worth  anything. 
He  must  get  a  living.  He  did  not  want  people  to 
make  beasts  of  themselves.  If  they  did,  it  was  their 
own  lookout  and  not  his.  He  kept  a  tavern  for  the 
public  accommodation.  To  keep  a  public  house  and 
not  sell  liquor,  would  be  a  curious  idea  !  He  wan't 
the  fool  that  Howard  took  him  to  be,  and  that  gen- 
tleman would  find  it  out  so. 

With  such  reasoning,  Hermon  stifled  the  little  con- 
science left,  and  after  a  few  days  things  assumed  their 
usual  course,  with  slight  exceptions.  All  had  miscal- 
culated upon  the  Doctor.  He  had  at  once  seen  the 
danger,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  horrible  effects  of  the 
liquor  from  the  "  Home,"  had  solemnly  sworn  to 
drink  no  more.  His  manhood,  yet  unobliterated  by 
his  rapidly  increasing  appetite  for  liquor,  rebelled 
against  the  thought  of  dying  a  drunkard.  Ricks,  his 
Bchoolrnate,  and  earliest  and  best  friend,  had  wasted  a 
fortune,  and  was  now  in  irons  as  a  murderer.  How- 
ard shuddered  as  he  looked  over  the  past  few  yearo, 


150  MINNIE   HERMON. 

and  as  lie  swore  before  God  in  the  bar-room  of  the 
"  Home,"  so  he  would  do  at  all  hazards.  No  influ- 
ences should  drive  him  from  his  position. 

With  bitter  words  yet  upon  his  tongue  and  anger 
in  his  heart,  Hermon  passed  from  the  bar-room  into 
the  hall.  He  met  Minnie  in  cloak  and  hood,  with  a 
basket  on  her  arm,  just  starting  to  go  out  among  the 
poor  of  the  neighborhood.  In  his  then  ill  humor,  it , 
was  enough  to  call  upon  the  daughter's  head  some 
of  the  harsh  language  that  swelled  in  his  troubled 
heart  against  Howard. 

"What  new  subject  of  your  whimpering  kindness 
now  calls  you  out  in  the  cold  ?  Haven't  I  told  you  be- 
fore to  stop  this  eternal  running  with  provisions  after 
lazy  vagabonds  ?  I  cannot,  will  not  submit  to  it  long- 
er !  "  You  must  stop  it !  " 

"Father!  I  cannot  stop  it.  You  must  not  say  that. 
I  am  not  feeding  lazy  vagabonds,  but  the  poor  and 
needy,  such  as  the  Saviour  enjoins  upon  us  to  aid. 
Do  not  say  I  shall  not,  Father ! " 

"  Saviour  be  — 

"  O  mercy !  Speak  it  not,"  and  she  sprung  forward 
and  placed  her  hand  quickly  upon  his  burning  lips 
to  shut  back  the  dreadful  blasphemy.  She  instantly 
removed  her  hand,  and  bursting  into  tears  fell  upon 
her  knees  and  craved  his  pardon  with  burning  kisses 
upon  his  reluctant  hand.  The  demon  was  again  en- 
throned in  the  bosom  of  Hermon  as  of  old.  Madden- 
ed with  rum  and  exasperated  by  his  clash  with  How- 
ard, even  the  tears  of  his  meek  and  devoted  daughter 


THREE   MEETINGS.  151 

were  Aike  oil  upon  the  fires  that  raged  fiercely  within 
him. 

"  Min. !  no  more  of  this  d d  nonsense !  I've 

seen  blubbering  enough.  Your  mother  was  always 
whimpering  around  like  a  simpleton,  and  I  am  tired 
of  it.  Go  into  the  kitchen  and  behave  yourself.  I'll 
see,  Miss,  if  I  can't  rule  my  own  house,"  and  with  a 
cruel  grasp  he  seized  Minnie  by  the  shoulder  and 
hurled  her  towards  the  inner  door. 

Minnie  sprang  from  his  clutch  as  if  stung,  but  it 
was  not  the  cruel  fingers  which  reached  the  quick. 
Rising  erect  in  all  the  queenly  beauty  of  her  injured 
feelings,  her  thin  nostrils  distended,  and  her  eyes 
kindling  with  indignation,  she  stood  before  the  un- 
natural parent. 

"  Father  of  mine !  you  may  heap  reproaches  upon 
me  —  may  even,  as  you  have  now  done  for  the  first 
time  in  your  life,  lay  a  harsh  hand  upon  me,  —  but 
in  the  fear  of  God,  never  dare  again  to  revile  the 
holy  name  of  one  who  loved  so  well  and  suffered  so 
deeply.  Heaven  forgive  you  for  assailing  the  mem- 
ory of  one  whom  you  wronged  so  cruelly  while  living. 
Have  you  forgotten  that  she  died  with  the  mark  of  a 
blow  upon  her  cheek,  and  a  prayer  upon  her  lip  for 
him  who  gave  it  ?  Have  you  forgotten  the  promise 
you  gave  her  then  that  you  would  not  touch  the  cup 
again  ?  By  all  the  memories  of  the  past,  of  the  pa- 
tient, long-suffering  wife  —  of  your  own  hopes  of 
Heaven,  my  once  noble  father,  away  with  this  dark 
demon,  and  we  will  be  happy  again.  Else  the  judg- 


152  MINNIE   HERHOtf. 

ments  of  God  will  as  surely  come  upon  us  as  lie  lives 
above." 

Drunk  as  he  was,  Hermon  felt  humbled  some- 
what, and  in  a  milder  tcne  muttered  about  giving 
away  so  much  out  of  the  house ;  it  would  "  beggar 
them." 

"  And  would  beggary  be  any  worse  for  us,  Father, 
than  others  ?"  mildly  asked  the  daughter. 

"Others  is  nothing  to  us.  It's  our  business  to 
take  care  of  ourselves." 

"  But  it's  our  duty  to  help  the  needy." 

"  But  we  can  be  reasonable  about  it ;  'taint  duty  to 
support  all  the  poor  there  is." 

"  Father,  I  must  be  plain.  There  were  few  poor 
and  needy  ten  years  ago.  I  shudder  when  I  think  of 
the  undoubted  cause  of  their  poverty.  Would  to 
God  that  that  cause  had  produced  no  worse  ill  than 
poverty." 

"What  do  you  allude  to,  girl?  —  what  cause?'' 
fiercely  demanded  Hermon. 

"  The  Traveler's  Home !  Its  liquor  has  produced 
suffering  and  death  in  every  direction." 

"  Who  told  you  this,  you  impudent  hussy  ?  " 

"  Have  I  not  seen  it  in  all  its  forms  from  the  very 
commencement? " 

"And  I  s'pose  you  will  say  next,  as  Howard  did, 
hat  I  destroyed  the  Ricks  family  ?  " 

"  Your  liquor  did,  most  assuredly." 

"  But  how  is  that  any  business  of  mine  ?  I  didn't 
kill  the  wife  and  children." 


THREE   MEETINGS.  153 

"  But  the  father  did,  while  in  liquor,  and  the  liquor 
came  from  your  hand." 

"  My  hand !  "  and  Hermon  involuntarily  looked  at 
his  hand,  as  if  expecting  to  see  blood  there,  and  then 
fiercely  moved  towards  Minnie.  But  she  stirred  not, 
and  the  madman  quailed  before  the  daughter,  for 
she  had  his  own  spirit,  and  it  was  thoroughly  aroused. 

"  Yes,  father,  it  came  from  your  hand." 

"  But  I  have  a  right  to  sell,  and  no  one  is  obliged 
to  buy  the  liquor." 

"  I  know  that  the  law  gives  you  a  right  to  sell,  but 
God  says,  '  Woe  unto  him  who  putteth  the  bottle  to 
his  neighbor's  lips,  and  maketh  him  drunken.' " 

"  You  needn't  preach  to  me  any  more,  Miss,  nor 
cany  any  more  stuff  out  of  the  house,"  snarled  Her- 
mon, as  he  turned  to  go  out.  You  carried  provis- 
ions enough  to  Ricks'  family  to  have  half  support- 
ed 'em." 

"And  were  they  not  entitled  to  even  more  than 
a  half-support  from  us  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  Am  I  to  support  all  who 
are  fools  enough  to  fool  away  their  property?  " 

"  I  mean,  father,  that  the  bread  I  carried  to  that 
family  was  theirs  —  every  morsel,  justly  theirs  —  ta- 
ken piece-meal  from  them  in  their  poverty." 

"  But  they  had  their  pay  for  it  in  liquor,"  thunder- 
ed the  enraged  father. 

"  In  liquor  !  and  you  dare  to  call  that  pay  for  all 
that  has  been  taken  from  them.  Did  you  not  know 
that  every  drop  which  went  there  was  a  curse  ?  Could 


154:  MINNIE   HEKMON. 

Mrs.  Hicks,  or  her  children,  eat  it  when  hungry,  or 
wear  it  in  the  cold  ?  Didn't  it  make  a  fiend  of  Ricks, 
and  cause  him  to  commit  the  crime  for  which  he  ia 
now  in  prison  ?  Don't  you  know  this,  father  ?  " 

"  Go  to  !     I  don't  know  any  such  thing.     I've 

got  nothirg  but  my  own." 

"  Who  has  the  deed  of  their  farm  ?  Dare  you  say 
you  gave  him  an  equivalent  ?  Is  that  instrument  not 
the  death-warrant  of  the  whole  family?  Ko,"  con- 
tinued Minnie,  as  the  landlord  of  the  "Home  "  cow- 
ered from  her,  "  that  bread  was  not  ours,  not  a  mor- 
sel of  it.  It  came  unjustly.  You  may  revile  —  you 
may  turn  me  from  your  door,  father ;  but,  before 
God,  I  will  restore,  as  far  as  in  me  lies,  to  those  who 
have  been  crushed  by  this  house.  You  will  live  to 
bless  me  for  this,  and  to  curse  the  day  you  trans- 
formed our  then  happy  home  into  a  tavern.  I  shall 
now  go  on  my  errand  to  the  Widow  Gilford's.  Her 
substance  and  the  life  of  her  only  child  have  been 
destroyed  ty  rum.  She  needs  our  aid.  It  is  her  due, 
and  she  shall  have  it."  • 

"  Hell  and  furies !  "  growled  Hermon,  as  he  slam- 
med the  door  behind  him.  "  She,  too,  has  got  How- 
ard's stuff  by  heart,  and  all  the  devils  this  side  the 
pit  can't  stop  her  clack." 

-  The  landlord  of  the  "  Home  "  felt  himself  a  mai- 
tyr,  and  sought  to  drown  his  troubles  in  a  stiff  horn 
of  fourth-proof,  and  a  vigorous  kicking  of  the  fore- 
Btick  in  the  fire-place. 

Dr.  Howard  rode  home,   with  new   and   strange 


THEEE   MEETINGS.  155 

thoughts  crowding  thickly  upon  each  other.  Dimly 
at  first,  but  increasing  as  he  proceeded,  the  light  of 
higher  views  of  his  duties  and  responsibilities  in  the 
matter  of  using  intoxicating  drinks,  broke  in  around 
him.  As  light  came,  so  did  a  knowledge  of  his  own 
danger,  and  the  nearness  of  the  precipice  he  had  es- 
caped. So  intense  became  his  thoughts  as  he  dwelt 
upon  the  subject,  the  abyss  opened  before  him,  and 
he  involuntarily  drew  up  his  rein  so  violently  that 
his  horse  reared,  and  came  near  throwing  him  from 
the  saddle. 

"  I  might  have  fallen  worse  —  far  worse,"  he  mut- 
tered, as  the  fearful  vision  was  dispelled,  and  he  looked 
out  upon  the  eddying  snow  and  up  to  the  gloomy 
clouds  overhead.  It  now  seemed  strange  that  he  had 
BO  long  forgotten  his  mother,  and  the  scene  in  the 
city  garret.  A  blush  crept  over  his  cheek  as  he  rec- 
ognized the  cause  of  his  forgetfulness,  and  with  a  ho- 
lier and  more  solemn  meaning,  his  recent  resolution 
entered  down  into  his  better  heart.  That  cold  hand 
and  glaring  eye  were  before  him,  and  the  blast  assumed 
a  milder  wail,  as  upon  that  fatal  night ;  and  he  shut 
his  eyes  and  spurred  on.  The  light,  like  a  cheering 
beacon,  streamed  out  from  his  own  window,  and  he 
dismounted  at  the  cottage,  a  free  and  a  happier  man. 
Fearfully  plain  he  now  saw  the  cause  of  the  wasting 
check  of  the  wife,  and  lingered  upon  the  step  to  dash 
a  tear  from  his  eye.  Not  even  an  angry  look  or  a 
smothered  retort  had  ever  answered  his  harsh  words, 
or  greeted  him  as  he  had  returned  from  the  reveL 


156  MINNIE   HERMON. 

The  intense  and  holy  love  of  a  better  day  kindled  up 
with  more  than  its  early  heat,  and  he  hurried  to  hia 
wife's  chamber. 

Howard  entered  softly,  but  the  chamber  was  de- 
serted. The  fire  glowed  in  the  chimney,  and  the  ta- 
ble awaited  his  coming.  As  he  turned  to  look,  a  low 
murmur  came  from  the  half-opened  bedroom  door, 
and  he  recognized  the  voice  of  his  wife.  The  current 
of  air  from  the  hall  door,  which  he  had  opened, 
swung  the  other  noiselessly  upon  its  hinges,  and  the 
whole  was  revealed.  The  child  had  been  placed  in 
the  bed,  and  was  slumbering  sweetly.  The  mother 
was  kneeling  before  the  bed,  the  hand  of  the  little 
sleeper  clasped  in  hers,  and  her  head  bowed  upon  the 
pillow.  Her  hair  had  fallen  from  its  fastenings,  and 
hung  in  dark  masses  over  the  shoulder.  Howard  had 
never  before  found  his  wife  at  prayer,  and  he  stood 
spell-bound,  not  knowing  whether  to  advance  or  re- 
treat. Clear  and  distinct  her  words  came,  and  like 
hot  brands  burned  upon  his  cheek  and  into  his  proud 
soul.  And  she,  too,  had  seen  his  danger  ;  and  now, 
with  the  holy  earnestness  of  a  faith  which  leaned 
firmly  upon  God,  and  a  heart  swelling  with  the  sor- 
row which  the  public  eye  never  beholds,  she  was 
praying  for  her  husband,  and  wrestling  with  Him 
who  influences  the  hearts  of  men,  to  save  the  father 
of  her  child  from  a  drunkard's  grave.  Howard 
started  as  though  an  adder  had  hissed  at  his  feet. 
And  still  the  long-suffering,  never-complaining  and 
devoted  wife  plead  that  their  home  might  be  spared 


THREE   MEETINGS.  15  Y 

from  the  destroyer  of  those  around  it.  She  raised  her 
head  again,  and  prayed  more  earnestly  that  HE  who 
loved  children  would  guard  her  own  from  harm. 
Tears  flooded  the  channel  of  words,  and  she  ceased 
to  speak,  but  —  a  more  touching  eloquence  —  wept 
her  prayors  in  silence. 

"EUmt* 

Ere  the  startled  wife  could  turn,  a  trembling  arm 
was  wound  about  her,  and  her  hand  clasped  convul- 
sively in  that  of  her  husband,  his  strong  frame  heaving 
with  emotion,  and  the  warm  tears  of  stouter  man- 
hood's giving  away,  raining  upon  the  locked  hands. 
The  silence  was  broken  only  by  the  sobbing  of  a  man 
who  seldom  wept — 

"  Ellen,  how  long  have  you  prayed  thus  ?  " 

"  Oh,  many,  many  times,  Henry.  I  hope  you  are 
not  offended,"  and  she  turned  to  look  in  his  face. 

"  My  deeply  injured  wife,  no !  ten  thousand  times, 
no !  But  you  will  weep  no  more ;  your  prayers  have 
been  answered.  I  have  this  night  sworn  to  drink  no 
more/orever  that  which  will  intoxicate." 

Men  who  know  not  how  much  a  woman  can  suffer 
in  the  daily  crumbling  away  of  her  heart's  dearest 
hopes,  can  dream  how  unutterable  happiness  like  the 
sunshine  of  perfect  bliss  came  back  from  Heaven  on 
the  pathway  of  her  prayers,  as  she  wound  her  arms 
around  the  neck  of  her  husband,  and  with  her  head 
bowed  upon  his  bosom,  wept  again.  Her  tears  were 
now  for  joy.  Each  one  gave  back  the  light  of  hope 
and  promise,  and  a  sweet  and  holy  calm  pervaded  her 


158  MINNIE   HERMON. 

soul  in  that  night  of  storm.  In  that  hour,  too,  How- 
ard had  determined  to  lean  upon  her  God,  and  the 
tempter  was  forever  driven  from  their  earthly  Eden. 
As  he  stooped  down  over  his  child,  it  awoke,  and  a 
smile  answered  the  kiss.  It  was  like  an  angel-wel- 
come—  welcome  back  to  a  better  and  holier  life. 
The  evening  meal  was  never  so  enjoyed.  The  fire 
looked  brighter,  and  the  tea-kettle  sung  a  livelier  air, 
and  its  steam  curled  up  from  the  spout  like  an  in- 
cense. The  storm  was  unheeded;  and  even  after 
the  family  had  retired,  the  coals  glowed  and  flashed, 
and  the  cricket  chirruped  his  happy  song  under  the 
hearth. 

Dreams  visited  the  sleeping  husband  and  wife. 
The  fearful  specter  which  had  seated  itself  at  their 
hearth  was  driven  away,  and  the  Angel  of  Hope  came 
and  smiled  where  it  had  been. 


CHAPTEE    XIII. 

MABEL   DUNHAM. 

AMONG  the  earliest  victims  of  the  rum  traffic  in 
Oakvale,  was  Harry  Dunham,  an  impetuous,  gener- 
ous-hearted and  high-souled  young  man  of  thirty 
years  of  age.  In  the  pleasures  of  the  cup,  the  bond- 
age of  the  tempter  was  woven  so  speedily  and  strong- 
ly around  him,  that  his  prospects  darkened  at  midday, 
and  the  sun  of  his  promise  went  down  like  a  meteor. 
His  was  a  nature  to  yield  at  once  and  madly  to  the 
fatal  embrace  of  his  enemy,  and  in  a  few  years  the 
gifted  young  man  had  fallen  to  the  lowest  degrada- 
tion, and  in  soiled  and  tattered  garments  spent  the 
most  of  his  time  in  the  bar-room  of  the  tavern.  The 
manly  form  was  bloated,  the  hair  bushy  and  un- 
combed, and  the  full,  dark  eye  of  a  fiery  red.  It  was 
pitiable  to  see  the  once  proud  young  man,  holding 
horses,  cleaning  stables,  sweeping  the  bar-rooms  — 
performing  the  most  menial  service  for  the  pittance 
of  a  glass.  As  a  sixpence  dropped  into  his  hand,  he 
would  turn  eagerly  away  to  the  bar  and  spend  it  for 
rum. 

The  course  of  Dunham  had  desolated  as  happy  a 
home  as  a  young  man  ever  had.  But  the  young  wife, 
who  had  given  him  the  priceless  wealth  of  her  young 
7 


li>0  MINNIE    HEKMON. 

heart,  was  stricken  down  like  a  tender  flower,  aud^ 
without  a  word  of  complaining,  died. 

Mabel,  the  fair  child  of  the  brief  union,  inherited 
all  her  mother's  loveliness,  and  every  home  in  Oak- 
vale  was  gladly  tendered  the  worse  than  orphan. 
She  had  no  more  a  homo,  for  her  father  deserted  her 
entirely,  and  plunged  more  deeply  into  dissipation. 
She  no  more,  however,  was  compelled  to  visit  the 
"  Home,"  with  the  tin  pail,  and  in  tremulous  tones 
ask  liquor  for  a  drunken  father  at  home. 

John  Gault,  a  bold,  impulsive  boy,  a  few  years 
older  than  Mabel,  was  often  seen  in  her  company, 
and  at  such  times  himself  went  into  the  bar-room  and 
got  the  liquor  for  her.  John's  father,  though  a  cler- 
gyman, was  a  cold,  stone-hearted  man,  and  was  angry 
at  the  intimacy  between  his  son  and  "  drunken  Dun- 
ham's "  Mabel ;  but  the  wilful  boy  would  go  to  school, 
and  over  the  fields,  and  by  the  river,  with  the  sad- 
hearted  child. 

The  old  school-house  stood  over  the  river,  perched 
picturesquely  at  the  "  four  corners  "  among  the  rocks 
and  scraggy  pines.  The  walls  upon  the  lower  side 
were  covered  with  moss,  tufts  of  grass  growing  in  the 
crevices,  and  a  thistle,  with  a  pale  red  blossom,  reach- 
ing out  its  prickly  stem.  The  house  is  old  and 
weather-beaten,  and  the  chimney  crumbling  away  ; 
but  clustering  with  a  thousand  hallowed  associations. 
The  jack-knife  had  been  busy  upon  the  clapboards 
and  benches,  where  rude  skill  had  carved  ruder  ima- 
ges and  names,  many  of  the  letters  turned  the  wrong 


MABEL   DUNHAM.  161 

way,  and  fantastically  uncouth.  The  old  door-sill 
was  broken  and  deeply  worn,  and  the  rank  grass  was 
growing  greenly  .upon  either  side  of  the  hard  path. 
There  was  an  old  rock  by  the  tuft  of  elders,  sloping 
back  to  the  hill  from  its  perpendicular  front,  and 
smoothly  worn  by  many  a  summer's  treading  of  bare- 
footed groups.  It  was  warm  —  the  rock  —  in  the 
summer's  sun,  and  there  were  glorious  tumbles  from 
the  overhanging  top. 

The  rock  is  there  yet,  but  many  of  the  bare  feet 
have  long  since  trodden  the  journey  of  life. 

Across  the  road  was  a  wide-spreading  old  thorn, 
with  scraggy  trunk  and  lance-like  weapons  hidden  in 
its  leaves ;  but  it  bore  a  gorgeous  wealth  of  white 
blossoms,  and  the  bees  mingled  melody  with  the  wel- 
come fragrance.  On  the  knoll  beneath,  was  the 
mimic  carriage-way,  with  its  bridge  of  bark  and  em- 
bankments of  fresh  earth.  No  architects  of  ancient 
grandeur  were  prouder  of  their  achievements  than  the 
boy  builders.  Below  the  hill  was  the  old  mill,  with 
its  deep,  dark  flume,  and  the  pond  covered  with  float- 
ing timbers.  The  mysterious  old  wheel  was  covered 
with  moss,  and  as  its  dripping  arms  swung  round,  a 
wealth  of  gems  fell  glittering  in  the  sunbeams.  There 
was  the  still  water  when  the  old  wheel  ceased  to  go 
round,  and  the  green-looking  stones  upon  the  bottom, 
where  the  "  dace  "  lay  so  lazily  in  the  sun,  and  seem- 
ed so  wondrous  large.  It  were  worth  a  world  to  sport 
again  in  that  cool  stream,  with  the  light  of  childhood 
in  the  heart,  and  its  vigor  in  the  limb. 


162  MDTCCIE  HEEMON. 

The  sun  crept  stilly  into  the  open  door  of  the  school- 
house,  and  away  across  the  warped  boards,  nicely 
swept,  and  worn  smooth  by  childish  feet.  "Warm  and 
rich  was  that  sunlight  as  it  came  in  at  the  window 
upon  the  well-worn  seat,  and  leaped  off  upon  the  floor 
across  the  roorrv.  Sweetly  it  laughed  upon  the  sleep- 
ing boy's  face  and  upon  his  golden  hair.  The  little 
sleeper  was  just  at  school,  and  the  mistress  had  kindly 
laid  him  down,  his  feet  hanging  over  the  end  of  the 
bench,  and  his  arm  hanging  down  to  the  floor. 

—  The  sun  moved  away  —  and  so  will  move  away 
the  child-dreams  of  his  school  days. 

There  is  a  low  murmur  of  voices  in  the  room,  and 
the  hum  of  the  fly,  as  he  wings  about  in  the  stillness, 
or  crawls  on  the  warm  window-pane,  or  trims  his  shi- 
ning wings  in  the  sunshine  —  save  this,  all  is  hushed 
and  dreamy.  The  sun  beats  hotly  without,  where 
the  mowers  are  busy,  the  scraping  of  their  rifles,  as 
they  sharpen  their  scythes,  ringing  clearly  across  the 
field.  With  the  shadow  of  the  drifting  cloud  goes 
by  the  breeze,  after  entering  the  windows  like  a  spirit 
of  health,  with  its  fragrance  of  new-mown  hay. 

The  wide  old  hearth  is  neatly  swept,  and  the  fire- 
place looks  cool  with  its  profusion  of  boughs.  The 
school  mistress  moves  quietly  about  the  room  with 
ferule  in  hand,  and  prompting  with  a  musical  voice 
as  the  children  recite. 

There  is  the  beautiful  and  sad  face  of  the  lone  boy, 
as,  with  his  crutch  beside  him,  he  sits  in  the  door  and 
watches  sports  he  cannot  enjoy.  His  cheeks  are 


MABEL   DUNHAM.  163 

pale,  but  his  eye  of  deepest  blue  has  that  resigned 
and  patient  look  which  wins  the  heart,  and  his  sweet 
and  gentle  manner  endeared  him  to  all.  The  best 
apple  is  his,  and  he  has  a  favored  seat  at  all  our 
plays ;  and  when  we  lift  him  over  the  fence,  where 
he  can  mingle  with  us  under  the  wide-crowned  thorn, 
his  look  is  grateful,  and  lingers  like  a  sacred  thought 
in  the  memory.  The  pilgrimage  of  the  lame  boy  is 
ended.  He  left  his  crutch  at  the  grave,  and  in  it  that 
shattered  form. 

In  the  corner  of  the  crooked  fence,  and  under  the 
thorn,  was  the  play-house,  built  of  fragments  of 
boards,  and  walled  in  with  cobble-stones.  The  bro- 
ken china  was  nicely  arranged,  and  the  turf  floor 
cleanly  swept.  But  lessons  were  not  always  well 
learned  within  that  little  retreat.  The  plump  arm 
was  punished  with  a  pin,  when  the  mischievous  owner 
put  dock-burs  in  her  brother's  hair. 

Mabel  Dunham  was  a  favorite,  for  the  children  had 
not  yet  learned  to  shun  the  drunkard's  child.  Her 
eyes  were  sweetly  calm  and  blue,  her  hair  long  and 
lying  like  waves  of  gold  upon  her  white  neck,  or  glan- 
cing in  the  sun  as  her  hand  tossed  the  heavy  braids 
from  her  cheek.  A  gentle  and  touching  sadness  had 
settled  upon  her  features  since  her  mother's  death, 
and  sorrow  more  than  years  had  written  its  language 
upon  her  thoughtful  brow. 

John  Gault,  was  the  boy-lover  of  Mabel.  He 
cartAilly  lifted  her  over  the  mossy  stones  in  the 
streams,  over  the  fence,  or  down  from  the  wide  rock 


164  MINNIE   HEKMON. 

by  the  spring.  The  yellowest  daisy  and  the  freshest 
wild-rose  were  hunted  out  from  the  meadow  and  the 
hedge,  and  the  largest  pond-lily  was  wrenched  from 
its  moorings  far  out  in  the  water.  The  smoothest  and 
prettiest  pebbles  were  selected  from  the  brooklet's  bed 
for  the  little  house  he  had  built  for  Mabel,  and  the 
greenest  moss  pulled  to  carpet  the  floor.  The  red 
maple  was  climbed  for  boughs  to  shut  out  the  sun  — • 
those  blue  eyes  ever  turned  anxiously  up  that  he 
should  not  fall.  Mornings,  John  would  steal  away 
and  watch  her  coming  down  the  winding  path  around 
the  hill,  and  carry  her  basket  to  the  school.  The  im- 
petuous boy  loved  more  than  boys  usually  love.  He 
saw  her  everywhere  in  night  and  day  dreams.  The 
flame-like  foliage  of  the  maple  was  like  the  dress  she 
•wore.  The  robin  in  the  beech  overhead  sang  of  Ma- 
bel. The  golden  dandelion  and  the  daisy  smiled  as 
she  smiled  ;  and  the  blue  sky  down  in  the  still  water, 
was  as  dreamy  and  still  as  her  eyes  were  calm.  He 
heard  her  footfall  behind  him  as  he  hurried  through 
the  dusky  wood-path.  The  stars  had  eyes  like  hers  ; 
and  in  the  moonlight,  the  dew-drop  glittered  as  he 
had  seen  the  tear  glitter  upon  her  cheek.  In  the 
strength  and  purity  of  his  child-love,  John  had 
promised,  that,  when  a  man,  in  spite  of  his  father  and 
everobody  else,  he  would  make  Mabel  his  wife,  and 
they  would  have  a  home  of  their  own,  and  be 
happy. 

—  Boy  dreams ! 

Mabel  Dunham  lost  I 


MABEL   DUNHAil.     .  165 

The  news  spread  quickly  through  the  village  —  for 
all  loved  the  unfortunate  child.  The  father,  deeply 
intoxicated,  had  been  seen  the  evening  before  in  her 
company  across  the  river. 

Below  the  dam  was  a  footwalk,  high  above  the 
water,  for  the  accommodation  of  the  villagers.  Across 
this  was  the  most  direct  way  to  the  falls  —  a  place 
where  John  and  Mabel  had  spent  many  hours  in 
childish  communion.  John  was  the  first  to  reach 
the  walk,  just  as  the  sunshine  fell  in  a  broad  beam 
across  the  pool.  There  upon  the  bottom  was  Dunham 
and  Mabel,  one  hand  clenched  upon  her  arm,  and  the 
other  upon  the  handle  of  his  broken  jug  !  The  sands 
glittered  in  the  golden  braids  of  her  hair  as  they  lay 
out  upon  the  clear  current ;  and,  as  if  smiling  to  the 
sky,  her  eye  was  turned  upward.  A  wild  rose  was 
crushed  in  her  stiffened  fingers.  The  father  with  his 
jug,  and  the  child  with  the  flower! — both  at  rest. 

There  was  no  little  astonishment  when  it  was  known 
that  Elder  Snyder  would  not  preach  at  the  funeral 
of  Dunham  and  his  child.  Few  dared,  however,  to 
reason  the  matter  with  him.  His  creed  was  cast-iron 
in  its  mould  —  dark,  puritanic  and  forbidding.  He 
felt  that  no  drunkard  could  enter  Heaven,  and  be- 
lieved that  the  sins  of  the  father  were  visited  upon 
the  children.  Dunham  was  an  ungodly  man,  and 
Mabel  had  never  been  baptized,  and  it  would  be 
blasphemy  to  pray  for  those  who  were  already 
doomed  to  perdition.  Gault  indignantly  rebuked 
the  bigot  because  he  would  not  preach  for  Mabel ; 


166  MENNIE   HERMON. 

but  he  was  severely  chastised  for  his  wickedness  and 
impertinence. 

On  a  bright  Sunday  afternoon  they  carried  Mabel 
across  the  stream,  and  lowered  her  gently  to  her  rest. 
John  Gault  dare  not  speak,  but  his  heart  went 
down  with  the  coffin,  and  he  loved  the  old  sexton  be- 
cause he  dropped  the  dirt  so  softly  down,  and  placed 
the  sods  so  carefully  with  his  hands,  with  a  tear  in 
his  own  eye.  The  old  man  loved  Mabel,  too. 

—  Thus  early  in  life  ended  the  love-dream  of  John 
Gault 


CHAPTEK    XIV. 

GOING   FEOM  HOME. 

"  No,  I  '11  not  forgive  him.  He 's  a  wilful  boy,  and 
has  disobeyed  me  thrice  in  this  matter.  He  has 
shown  himself  a  child  of  the  devil,  and  he  must  go 
out.  He  is  no  son  of  mine,  and  this  is  his  home  no 
longer ! " 

"  Nay,  William,"  pleaded  the  tearful  wife,  "he  is  our 
only  child.  Do  not  turn  him  away,  but  forgive  him. 
He  is  wayward,  but  not  vicious.  Years  and  kindness 
will  cool  his  fiery  nature,  and  he  will  be  a  blessing 
in  our  old  age.  God  will  not  leave  him  —  we  must 
not.  The  act  may  be  his  ruin,  and  plant  sorrow  in 
our  old  hearts  for  life.  Our  Saviour  was  forgiving, 
William,"  and  the  earnest  woman  laid  her  hand  gen- 
tly on  the  arm  of  the  stern  man  before  her,  "  and 
should  we  not  bear  longer  with  the  only  one  now 
left  us  ? " 

"Tempt  me  not,  woman!  Tour  mother's  heart 
clings  wickedly  to  an  unworthy  idol.  The  boy  has 
wandered  from  the  fold  and  our  hearth?ide  and  sought 
intercourse  with  the  ungodly.  He  is  lost,  but  God's 
will  be  done.  I  must  not  shrink,  for  we  read  that  if 
the  eye  offend,  we  must  pluck  it  out.  Alfred  is  de- 
termined to  inflict  disgrace  upon  us  and  the  church. 


168  MINNIE   HERMON. 

His  mouth  is  filled  with  cursings,  and  his  heart  >rith 
disobedience,  and  I  can  harbor  him  no  more." 

"  But  if  the  prodigal  should  return,"  continued  the 
now  weeping  mother,  "you  surely  would  welcome 
him  to  our  home  ?  " 

"  Enough  of  this,  Mary ;  it  is  wrong  to  repine.  It 
is  ordered  that  our  child  should  be  cast  out  from 
among  the  righteous,  and  it  is  ours  to  submit." 

The  angel-hearted  mother  would  have  still  plead 
for  her  wayward  boy,  but  she  looked  in  the  face  of 
the  stern,  tearless  father,  and  with  a  quivering  lip 
turned  away  to  weep  as  only  a  mother  weeps,  and 
left  that  frowning  man  to  walk  his  study  with  a  firm 
tread  and  a  compressed  lip. 

Elder  Snyder  was  a  Christian  of  iron  mould.  No 
penance-doing  monk  was  ever  more  exact  and  rigid 
in  the  performance  of  his  religious  duties,  and  more 
unforgiving  towards  the  wayward  and  ungodly.  He 
looked  upon  the  least  sin  with  no  degree  of  allowance, 
and  felt  it  a  solemn  duty  to  heap  the  fiercest  condem- 
nation upon  all  who  did  not  square  by  his  standard 
of  faith.  His  was  a  cast-iron  creed,  unyielding  and 
unforgiving.  He  was  once  a  persecutor  of  the  saints, 
but  now  a  minister  of  the  gospel,  who  dealt  only  in 
the  fierce  red  imagery  of  hell  and  its  torments,  in  his 
Sabbath  ministrations.  He  never  spoke  of  the  love 
of  the  child-like  Saviour  —  nor  wept  as  that  Saviour 
wept  —  never  forgave  as  that  Saviour  forgave.  He 
never  smiled ;  but  cold,  passionless  and  stern,  stood 
like  an  angel  with  a  flaming  sword  to  drive  out  the 


GOING   FKOM   HOME.  169 

erring  forever ;  never,  like  the  meek  Redeemer,  to 
forgive  and  pardon  on  the  cross,  and  welcome  tc 
Heaven  the  praying  and  penitent  thief.  He  was  evei 
dark  and  forbidding,  and  his  sermons  were  ever  woven 
with  the  sombre  texture  of  eternal  wrath.  The  mild, 
winning  light  of  our  blessed  religion  never  warmed 
or  irradiated  his  dark  nature.  He  esteemed  joy  and 
laughter  a  sin,  and  passed  among  his  people  with  a 
countenance  as  rigid  and  unbending  as  though  no 
heart  throbbed  beneath  that  stolid  surface. 

Such  was  the  father  of  Alfred  Snyder,  for  whom 
the  mother  plead  in  the  beginning  of  this  chapter. 
The  young  looked  upon  him  with  awe,  but  not  with 
love  and  veneration.  There  was  nothing  in  his  man- 
ner or  conversation  to  win  the  affection  of  the  youth, 
or  to  attract  them  toward  him.  From  the  ball-play 
or  the  ring  he  turned  away  with  a  frown  and  a  sigh. 
His  prayers  were  ever  of  a  chilling  solemnity,  and 
breathed  only  denunciations  against  the  impenitent. 
And  in  the  chamber  of  the  dying,  he  never  wore  that 
smile  of  hope  and  faith,  which  burns  like  a  beacon 
above  the  silent  wastes  of  a  shoreless  ocean.  Child- 
hood shrunk  away  in  whispers  from  that  cloudy  brow, 
and  hushed  the  laughter  of  its  joys. 

We  need  not  detail  the  history  of  an  education  at 
Buch  a  hearth  and  by  such  a  teacher.  His  treatment 
of  his  familv  chilled  every  warm  impulse  of  his  chil- 
dren, and  taught  them  that  all  earthly  joy  was  a  sin. 
All  but  one  of  his  children  had  passed  away,  but  the 


170  MINNIE   IIERMON. 

iron  man  never  wept  —  it  would  have  been  sinful  to 
have  wept  over  the  providence  of  God  ! 

—  And  so  the  mother  wept  alone  in  her  heart  and 
chamber  over  the  wasting  of  her  idols. 

Thus  Alfred  Snyder  grew  up  to  early  manhood, 
looking  upon  his  home  as  a  prison-house^  and  his 
father  as  a  stern,  hard  keeper,  and  upon  the  world  as 
a  bright  realm  which  lured  him  to  pleasures  he  could 
not  enjoy.  Even  the  most  innocent  amusements  of 
childhood  were  denied  him.  The  tide  of  young  life's 
buoyancy  was  frowned  back  to  its  fountain,  where  its 
pent-up  strength  struggled  against  the  unnatural  and 
unreasonable  restraint.  The  Bible  and  the  catechism 
were  the  only  books ;  the  rod,  the  devil,  and  perdi- 
tion, the  only  motives  in  life.  The  result  of  such  a 
system  of  training  upon  a  fiery  nature,  need  not  be 
told.  Alfred  inherited  all  his  father's  firmness,  with 
the  buoyant,  sunny  nature  of  the  mother.  His  heart 
was  full  of  the  sunshine  of  life,  and  of  the  nobility  of 
manhood.  He  turned  kindly  to  every  one,  and 
eagerly  sought  the  pleasant  associations  of  youth. 
He  was  frank,  impulsive,  and  generous,  and  from  a 
cold  and  uncongenial  home,  turned  involuntarily  to 
catch  the  sunshine  he  found  not  at  his  own  hearth- 
side.  Thus,  step  by  step,  without  dreaming  of  wrong, 
he  crossed  the  first  circles  of  youthful  pleasure.  In- 
stead of  striving  to  make  home  pleasant,  and  to  blend 
instruction  with  amusement,  the  father  was  harshly 
Btern  and  unforgiving.  Alfred,  now  twenty  years 


GOING   FKOM  HOME.  171 

old,  came  home  from  a  dance  ;  the  father  did  not  ex- 
postulate or  entreat,  but,  with  a  lowering  brow,  took 
the  rod  and  chastised  his  boy.  Alfred's  cheek  flushed 
a  deep  crimson,  and  his  eye  flashed,  but  he  stood 
erect  and  looked  his  parent  in  the  face.  But  the 
strokes  burned,  and  his  proud  nature  writhed  under 
the  disgraceful  infliction.  The  punishment  came  to 
the  ears  of  his  comrades,  and,  maddened  by  the  fact, 
Alfr.ed  attended  another  dance,  and  was  again  flog- 
ged. And  still  a  third  time.  The  gulf  had  now 
widely  yawned  between  the  parent  and  child,  and  the 
latter  sought  his  chamber  with  a  pale,  compressed 
lip.  A  new  purpose  was  formed. 

The  father  knelt  and  put  up  his  evening  prayer,  his 
voice  as  coldly  calm  and  unshaken  as  though  no 
shadow  had  ever  fallen  between  him  and  his  first 
born. 

The  mother  stole  away  to  the  chamber  of  her  boy, 
to  drop  the  balm  of  kindly  words  and  tears  upon  hia 
smarting  wounds  and  into  the  lacerated  heart.  Al- 
fred had  thrown  himself  upon  his  bed  without  un- 
dressing, and  had  already  fallen  asleep.  There  were 
tears  lingering  upon  the  lids  and  cheek,  and  the  holy 
ones  of  the  mother  mingled  with  them,  as  she  kneeled 
and  wept  over  the  wayward,  but  brave  and  noble- 
hearted  boy.  His  cheeks  were  flushed,  and,  upon 
one  of  them,  was  a  long  line  of  fiery  red,  where  the 
lash  had  reached  from  the  shoulder. 

The  father  prayed  not  for  his  child,  but  the  mother 
did.  Alfred  awoke  to  hear  her  asking  the  blessing 


172  MINNIE   HEKMON. 

of  God  upon  liis  head,  and  he  wove  his  arm  around 
her  iveck,  and  wept  as  a  grieved  child  would  weep. 

"  Mother,  I  must  leave  home  —  it  is  no  place  for 
me.  Harsh  words  I  can  bear,  but  not  blows. 
I  am  disgraced,  for  the  boys  all  understand  the 
matter."  *• 

"  No,  no,  Alfred,"  answered  the  mother  sadly ; 
"  you  must  not  leave.  Tour  father  is  severe,  but  he 
feels  that  you  have  disobeyed  him.  Your  mother 
will  plead  with  him — you  are  our  only  child,  and 
you  must  not  go  away  from  us." 

"Mother,  I  must.  It's  of  no  use — father  never 
smiles  or  speaks  a  kind  word  to  me.  Had  he  done 
so,  I  am  sure  I  should  not  have  disobeyed  him.  I 
love  you,  mother,  but  I  cannot  love  him.  Every 
blow  he  strikes  me  smarts  to  the  soul,  and,  with  bit- 
ter words,  he  told  me  to  leave  the  home  I  had  dis 
graced.  Did  he  speak  to  me  as  you  speak,  I  could 
get  down  on  my  knees  to  him  and  beg  his  forgiveness, 
but  never,  with  the  lash  burning  on  my  back.  I 
will  go." 

Alfred  had  arisen  and  stood  with  erect  frame  and 
dilated  nostrils,  his  eye  flashing  and  the  whip  mark 
reddening  on  his  cheek.  The  mother  watched  him 
with  feelings  of  pride  as  he  stood,  and  yet  wept  at  his 
determination.  The  mother's  tears  were  yet  warm 
upon  the  cheek  of  her  boy,  to  be  borne  out  into  the 
world,  and  remembered  when  all  else  virtuous  and 
holy  died  out. 

"  It  is  of  no  use,"  he  firmly  answered  to  her  earn- 


GOING   FKOM   HOME. 

est  appeals,  "I  must  go.  I  never  sliall  return  until 
he  asks  me  to,  though  I  will  write  to  you  often.  And 
now,  mother,  I  am  wild  and  thoughtless,  but  you  will 
pray  for  me  when  away.  I  shall  be  a  better  man. 
It  is  hard  to  leave  —  to  be  turned  oiit,  but,"  and  he 
stood  prottdly  up,  "  I  can  wrestle  alone  in  the  world, 
and  find  none  more  unkind  than  him  you  have  told 
me  to  love.  Don't  weep  —  you  unman  me.  In  an 
hour  I  shall  be  on  my  way." 

—  Alas  !  how  many  stronger  wrestlers  have  been 
thrown  in  life's  encounters. 

The  mother  spent  that  swift  hour  on  her  knees, 
and,  as  the  clock  struck  ten,  she  hearkened,  even  then 
hoping  that  Alfred  would  not  go.  She  opened  the 
hall  door,  passed  softly  to  his  chamber,  and  found  the 
door  ajar.  She  feared  he  had  gone,  but  she  found 
him  bowed  and  his  face  wet  with  tears,  and  her  min- 
iature in  his  hands.  Like  the  low  rustling  of  an  an- 
gel's wing,  the  mother  kneeled  down,  and  locked  arm 
in  arm  in  silence,  they  wept  again  together,  for  the 
mother  loved  her  child. 

Alfred  stood  on  the  threshold,  his  heart  swelling  in 
his  throat,  and  locked  to  the  heaving  bosom  of  the 
sorrowing  mother.  Even  then,  had  that  stern  father 
Bpoken  one  kind  word  to  the  proud  boy,  the  cloud 
would  have  passed  away  from  the  hearth. 

'T  was  like  wrenching  hearts  asunder  —  the  agony 
of  that  parting.  She  clung  to  him  with  hooks  of  steel. 
He  had  been  her  idol,  and  she  yielded  him  as  one  of 
the  brightest  hopes  of  earth.  Clouds  had  darkened 


174:  MINNIE   HERMON. 

the  sky  over  their  heads,  but  darker  ones  were  IE 
their  hearts. 

"I  must  go,  mother  —  may  God  be  with  you,  for 
there  are  none  to  love  you  as  I  love  you.  Tell  fa- 
ther to  be  more  kind  to  others  than  he  has  been  to 
me,  and  that  when  old  age  creeps  upon  him,  one 
kindly  word  will  bring  me  back  to  our  home  from  the 
ends  of  the  earth.  Don't  weep,  mother,  but  pray  for 
your  wayward  boy.  Good-bye  !  " 

Like  a  part  of  her  own  life,  Alfred  withdrew  from 
her  trembling  arms,  and  turned  down  the  road.  She 
listened  to  every  footstep,  the  sounds  falling  like  barbs 
into  her  desolate  heart,  and,  faint  and  dizzy,  she  pas- 
sed into  the  dark  and  lonely  chamber,  where  every- 
thing reminded  her  sadly  of  him  who  had  gone  from 
her  sight  forever.  It  stormed  during  the  night,  and 
she  saw  in  each  flash  the  form  of  her  boy,  heavy- 
hearted  and  weary,  toiling  alone  through  life,  without 
mother  or  home. 

The  morning  was  cloudless,  and  the  sun  smiled  upon 
the  dripping  landscape.  The  father  put  up  his  morn- 
ing prayer  with  a  steady  voice,  never  once  alluding 
to  him  who  was  launched  out  upon  a  world-wide  and 
treacherous  ocean. 

—  The  mould  will  long  gather  upon  the  grave  of 
that  mother,  ere  the  wanderer  returns. 


CHAPTER    XY. 

TTNMOOBED   FKOM  THE   HEABTH. 

0:tf  the  fourth  day  from  home,  Alfred  Snjder  found 
himself  in  the  streets  of  the  Empire  City,  alone  and 
friendless.  The  thronging  thousands,  the  rumbling 
of  wheels,  and  the  confusion  of  tongues,  wore  the  air 
of  novelty  for  a  time.  But  he  soon  wearied  of  all 
this,  and  felt  himself  in  a  vast  solitude,  even  in  the 
midst  of  the  great  Babel.  So  true  it  is,  that  in  the 
very  midst  of  the  tramping  thousands,  the  stranger 
feels  like  one  in  a  vast  solitude,  and  turns  within 
his  own  bosom,  where  there  are  thoughts  of  home 
and  friends  who  are  ever  joined  in  one  common 
circle. 

It  is  not  our  purpose,  at  this  time,  to  trace  the  ca- 
reer of  Alfred  in  detail.  The  chances  are  against 
him  in  the  great  battle  before  him.  Brave  and  true 
men  have  fallen.  There  is  no  true  heroism  like  that 
which  meets  and  beats  back  the  temptations  which, 
like  ten  thousand  whirlpools,  circle  and  seethe  every- 
where in  the  ocean  of  life. 

Alfred  was  alone,  and  the  principles  of  virtue  and 
truth  not  too  well  fixed.  The  very  manner  in  which 
he  had  been  educated  at  home  had  robbed  such 
principles  of  their  real  attractions.  He  remem- 


176  MINNIE   HERMON. 

bered  such  teachings  as  associated  with  the  harsh 
word  and  the  stinging  blow.  As  he  turned  to  the 
gay  world,  its  gayeties  and  pleasures  had  beauties 
which  have  too  often  proved  fatal  to  those  of  sterner 
mould.  He  was  impulsive,  generous  and  brave  ;  and 
under  the  influences  of  a  right  education  at  home,  he 
would  have  been  one  of  nature's  noblemen. 

Alfred  remembered  his  mother,  and  felt  that  he 
should  always  respect  her  parting  advice.  Poor  boy ! 
How  soon  he  learned  his  weakness.  By  degrees,  yet 
rapidly,  he  was  drawn  into  the  mesh.  His  was  a  na- 
ture to  welcome  all  that  wore  the  guise  of  friendship, 
and  the  result  was  that  he  found  himself  a  dupe  and 
a  victim  of  designing  knaves,  his  good  resolutions 
vanished,  -and  himself  floating  away  resistlessly  upon 
the  tide  of  ruin.  Often  he  thought  of  his  mother, 
but  temptation  came  again  and  again,  and  still  closer 
her  bonds  were  tightened  around  the  boy.  He  beat 
the  current  with  feebler  stroke,  and  turned  to  go  down 
to  his  fate. 

Six  months  had  passed  since  Mrs.  Snyder  bid  "  good 
bye  "  to  her  boy  at  the  old  farm  gate.  Not  a  waking 
hour  of  that  time  had  passed  in  which  she  had  not 
thought  of  him,  and  lifted  her  prayer  to  God  to  watch 
over  him,  and  guide  his  footsteps.  As  she  sat  at  tht, 
morning  and  evening  meal,  the  eye  would  flood  as  it 
turned  to  a  spot  at  the  board  no  longer  filled.  In  his 
chamber  she  thought  and  dreamed,  and  with  longings 
which  only  a  mother  can  know,  looked  for  his  coming 
at  some  future  day. 


UNMOORED  FROM  THE  HEARTH.         177 

Che  mother  may  dream,  but  she  shall  pass  from 
the  earth  and  see  him  not. 

And  happy  for  her  that  she  cannot  see  him  now, 
as  he  mingles  with  the  abandoned  in  the  dens  of  vice. 
The  fair  cheek  is  already  red  and  swollen,  and  the 
eye  inflamed.  How  swiftly  ruin  has  written  its  lan- 
guage on  that  handsome  face  and  manly  frame,  and 
upon  his  manner  and  apparel. 

The  hallowed  face  of  his-  mother  mingles  in  the 
dreams  of  his  drunken  slumbers,  like  faint  sunbursts 
struggling  into  the  dank  and  dark  dungeon-house  of 
death.  Dim,  and  still  more  dim,  appeared  that  form 
as  it  receded  in  the  distance,  leaving  the  nightmares 
of  ruin  to  riot  undisturbed  in  the  heart  of  the  victim. 

At  times,  as  the  fumes  of  a  debauch  passed  off,  his 
better  nature  would  struggle  bravely  for  a  moment, 
and  the  yet  proud  spirit  chafe  against  the  fetters  which 
bound  him.  How  eagerly  the  sick  and  bruised  boy 
then  turned  his  thoughts  homeward,  and  to  his  mother, 
who  stood  at  the  old  farm  gate, as  on  the  night  they 
parted,  with  outstretched  arms  to  welcome  him  back ! 
A  thousand  times,  the  first  impulse  had  been,  to  go  ; 
but  instantly  a  stern  and  relentless  shadow  passed 
in  before  him,  and  with  fierce  words  and  thongs,  drove 
him  back  —  the  shadow  of  his  father !  He  could  not, 
would  not  go  back  as  he  was,  and  he  had  not  strength 
to  burst  away  and  win  an  honored  name  among  men. 
There  was  an  enemy  in  his  bosom  stronger  than  he — 
a  sneering  devil, who  smiled  upon  the  impotent  strug- 
gles ef  the  enslaved  one. 


1Y8  MINNIE   HEKMON. 

Late  one  night  Alfred  Snyder  was  found  in  the  street 
near  the  wharf,  drunk  and  asleep. 

"When  he  awoke  in  the  morning,  he  was  bewildered 
and  lost.  He  pressed  his  hand  upon  his  brow,  where 
sharp  pains  shot  fiercely  through  every  vein.  He 
experienced  strange  emotions  —  the  bed  seeming  to 
rise  and  fall  as  if  tossed  on  an  ocean  swell.  He  at- 
tributed the  sensation  to  his  debauch,  but  he  heard 
the  creak  of  cordage  above  him,  and  a  sound  like  the 
dashing  of  waves  near  his  head.  A  dim  light  strug- 
gled in  through  a  small  window  above  his  bed,  and 
he  arose  and  attempted  to  stand  upon  his  feet.  The 
room  rocked,  and  he  believed  himself  yet  drunk, 
though  he  could  remember  distinctly  the  scenes  of  the 
previous  evening.  He  groped  around  to  find  a  door, 
but  reeled  and  stumbled  against  his  bed.  That  sound 
of  dashing  waves  still  continued,  and  he  shut  his  eyes 
to  determine  whether  he  was  not  still  dreaming.  At 
last  he  managed  to  climb  up  to  the  window  by  stand- 
ing on  the  bed,  and  look  out.  It  could  not  be  a  dream ! 
yet,  there  met  his  bewildered  gaze  one  wide  expanse 
of  blue  water,  the  long,  unbroken  swells  plunging 
sullenly  towards  a  faint  blue  cloud  in  the  distant  hor- 
izon. He  was  on  board  a  vessel,  and  the  wide  waters 
rolling  between  him  and  the  shore ! 

Drunk  and  insensible,  Alfred  had  been  borne  to  the 
ship  which  was  outward  bound  for  a  three-years 
cruise.  As  the  sun  went  down  that  day,  he  leaned 
over  the  bulwarks  of  the  vessel  and  looked  out  on 
the  bright  pathway  of  gold,  which  mockingly  smiled 


UNHOOKED  FKOH   THE   HEAJtTH.  179 

away  towards  the  distant  home.  Again  he  thought 
of  that  Eden  and  its  mother,  and  a  hot  tear  leaped 
from  his  feverish  cheek,  and  was  borne  shoreward 
by  the  receding  wave. 

We  shall  make  too  much  of  a  digression  if  we 
trace  all  the  wanderings  of  Alfred  Snyder.  He 
was  wrecked  on  the  Barbary  coast,  and  for  three 
years  was  a  slave  to  the  Moor.  He  escaped  from 
his  bondage  but  to  be  wrecked  again  on  the  west- 
ern shore  of  Africa,  and  struggle  for  weeks  with  fe- 
ver and  deprivation.  He  was  at  last  taken  up  by  a 
slaver,  and  afterwards  taken  by  pirates,  and  entered 
as  one  of  their  number  in  theii*  bloody  trade. 


CHAPTEK  XYI. 

THE   STRANGER   IN   THE  TARPAULIN. 

IT  was  one  of  the  days  of  late  autumn.  The  morn- 
ing was  cold  and  cloudy,  and  the  ocean  swells  came 
plunging  darkly  to  the  shore.  A  chill  wind  blew  out 
in  gusts,  sweeping  the  water  from  rising  billows,  and 
bearing  it  along  in  drifting  clouds  of  spray.  The 
streets  were  damp  from  the  night  before,  and  all 
things  wore  a  dismal  and  cheerless  aspect. 

Towards  noon  the  heavy  fogs  rolled  out  from  the 
shore,  and  the  sun  struggled  feebly  through  the  bro 
ken  clouds.  Far  out,  with  all  sails  set,  a  vessel  was 
beating  towards  the  harbor.  But  not  until  late  in  the 
afternoon  did  she  drop  her  anchor  at  the  wharf  and 
furl  her  damp  sails. 

With  a  glass,  one  might  have  stood -on  the  wharf 
and  noticed  a  person  on  the  deck  of  that  ship,  as  mo 
tionless  as  a  block,  leaning  over  the  bulwarks,  his  chin 
resting  on  his  hand.  The  sailors  were  busy  aboard, 
but  he  moved  not,  until  the  anchor  dropped  and  the 
vessel  rocked  like  a  weary  and  panting  monster  at  the 
wharf.  He  then  started  like  a  man  from  a  deep  slum- 
ber;  and  paced  the  deck  with  a  quick  and  impatient 
tread. 

A  week  or  ten  days  from  the  time  above  alluded 


THE   STRANGER   IN   THE   TARPAULIN.  181 

to,  a  man  might  have  been  seen  toiling  up  the  long 
hill  which  led  to  the  village  of  Oakvale,  with  a  slow 
and  weary  step.  His  sailor  garb  was  hard- worn  and 
dusty.  His  feet  were  blistered  from  travel,  and  he 
carried  his  shoes  in  his  hand,  stopping  frequently  to 
rest  by  the  way-side.  His  face  bronzed  and  weather- 
beaten,  and  marked  with  scars,  and  grossly  red,  his 
eye  red  and  fierce,  and  his  hair  long  and  matted. 
The  frame  was  a  noble  one  in  its  proportions,  but  the 
step  had  none  of  the  vigor  of  mature  manhood.  Slowly 
and  silently  he  pursued  his  way,  nor  noticed  the  pass- 
er-by who  turned  to  look  again  at  the  dust-covered 
and  uncouth-looking  stranger. 

As  he  reached  the  top  of  the  hill  overlooking  the 
village,  he  turned  from  the  beaten  path,  and  seated 
himself  upon  the  stones  which  had  tumbled  from  the 
old  wall,  and  with  his  arms  resting  upon  his  knees, 
gazed  long  and  earnestly  towards  the  village.  The 
sun  was  setting  without  a  cloud,  and  its  beams  rested 
in  all  their  autumnal  loveliness  upon  the  landscape. 
Peacefully  it  went  down  behind  the  western  hills, 
and  still  the  traveler  gazed,  until  the  mingled  hum  of 
the  evening  sounds  came  up  the  valley.  The  moon 
was  already  in  the  sky,  and  the  soft  twilight ;  and  clear 
and  distinct  the  church  bell  pealed  out  and  swelled 
up,  and  then  rolled  away  like  waves  upon  the  trem- 
bling air.  That  iron  voice  startled  the  traveler,  and 
a  thousand  thoughts  might  have  been  seen  creeping 
over  his  swollen  features.  Again  he  listened,  and  as 
the  last  notes  died  out  in  a  murmur,  he  bowed  his 


182  MINNIE   HEKMON. 

head  and  wept.     Like  the  showering  rain-,  the  pent- 
up  drops  glanced  from  the  feverish  cheek. 

The  prodigal  stood  again  in  the  outskirts  of  his  na- 
tive village :  the  scarred  and  weather-beaten  sailor 
was  Alfred  Snyder.  He  had  returned,  and  there  he 
stood  on  the  bridge  and  looked  down  upon  the  shim- 
mering waters  of  the  stream.  He  lived  again  in  the 
past,  and  stood  there  as  when  a  boy.  But  what  a 
shadow  had  passed  over  the  years  of  his  manhood. 

Alfred  entered  the  village.  Many  of  the  buildings 
remained  as  when  he  left,  and  he  walked  up  the  fa- 
miliar street  like  one  in  a  dream.  How  strangely  the 
memories  of  other  years  stole  back  in  their  early 
freshness,  until  it  seemed  but  a  day  that  he  left  it  all 
and  the  dwellings  and  the  stream,  the  bridge  over- 
grown with  grass,  and  the  mellow  moonlight,  the 
clump  of  hemlocks  below,  and  the  weather-beaten 
school-house  across  the  pond,  were  the  same  as  then. 
It  was  a  happy,  an  ecstatic  dream ;  and  as  he  thought 
of  how  much  he  would  give  were  it  in  his  power  to 
buy  back  the  past,  and  blot  out  his  manhood's  years 
and  their  dark  history,  he  wept  again. 

Here  was  the  old  church,  the  grass  green  around 
its  old  steps,  and  the  tin  dome  glimmering  in  the 
moonbeams.  Alfred  passed  round  to  the  window  by 
the  shed,  and  climbing  upon  the  old  bench,  peered  in 
through  the  window.  What  thrilling  thoughts  throb- 
bed in  his  bosom  as  he  attempted  to  scan  familiar 
places  in  the  dim  light.  The  moonbeams  fell  upon 
the  old  desk  where  his  father  had  preached  from  hia 


THE   STRANGER   IN  THE   TARPAULIN.  183 

infancy,  and  across  into  the  family  pew.  Did  lie 
preach  there  now,  and  his  mother  sit  in  that  old  pew  ? 
The  outlines  of  the  organ  were  shadowy.  Where  was 
she  who  once  sat  at  the  keys? 

The  prodigal  turned  away  from  the  holy  silence 
which  reigned  within  the  church,  and  passed  into  the 
heart  of  the  village.  The  same  tavern  sign  swung 
between  the  posts,  and  the  same  "  stoop  "  was  there. 
He  passed  quickly  on,  for  it  seemed  sacrilege  to  invade 
the  better  thoughts  whicl}  now  possessed  him  with 
the  bitter  memories  of  the  tavern  house.  A  few  steps, 
and  he  stood  where  he  parted  from  his  mother.  He 
trod  softly,  for  it  was  holy  ground  to  him,  and  invol- 
untarily looked  to  see  his  mother,  as  she  then  stood 
at  the  gate  and  wept  her  good-bye.  Steadily  the 
tear  drops  ran  down  his  cheeks,  and  he  leaned  over 
the  gate,  yielding  himself  to  the  thoughts  which  bore 
him  away  like  a  flood.  There  stood  the  old  parson- 
age —  the  home  of  his  youth  ;  and  he  lingered,  and 
looked  through  streaming  eyes,  like  a  returning  wan- 
derer into  a  holy  Eden.  The  old  cherry  was  there 
still,  its  yellow  leaves  now  rustling  in  the  path  and 
upon  the  green  by  the  roadside.  The  little  porch 
had  not  changed,  and  the  wild  vines  clung  to  the 
eaves  as  of  yore.  His  own  chamber  window  was  there, 
and  the  low  root  beneath  it.  He  longed  to  20  in  and 

o  o 

look  into  the  garden,  but  dared  not  touch  the  brass 
knocker  upon  the  front  door.  He  felt  that  he  would 
have  given  worlds  to  have  known  if  his  mother  was 
there,  yet  dreaded  to  know.  He  listened  for  her 


184:  MINNIE    HEKMON. 

footstep  as  he  once  used  to  hear  it,  when  she  watched 
late  for  his  return,  but  it  was  the  rustling  of  the  leaves 
which  had  fallen  in  the  walk.  "Was  the  mother  there, 
or  had  she  passed  away,  and  strangers  taken  her  place  ? 
The  moon  came  brightly  out  of  the  clouds,  and  he 
passed  up  to  look  upon  the  old  lion-faced  knocker. 
As  his  foot  fell  upon  the  sill,  the  dark  shadow  of  a 
cloud  passed  over  the  sky,  and  he  shrunk  timidly 
back  to  the  gate.  But  he.  felt  that  he  must  know, 
and  he  again  stood  within  the  little  porch  and  peered 
into  the  face  of  the  bronzed  lion  for  the  familiar  name 
His  heart  sank  within  him,  for  another  name  was 
there,  and  the  stern  image  seemed  to  frown  upon  him, 
and  he  turned  away,  as  weak  as  a  child. 

"Without  a  thought,  he  had  turned  up  the  street, 
and  stood  in  front  of  the  old  church-yard,  its  sable 
gate  standing  dark  and  sombre  at  the  entrance. 
Guilty  as  Alfred  was,  and  his  hand  red  with  crime, 
the  flowing  tears,  and  the  sacred  memories  which 
brought  them,  made  him  forget  his  own  degradation, 
and  he  sought  the  grave-yard  as  a  place  of  rest.  He 
had  not  yet  thought  that  his  mother  might  be  there 
until  he  stood  among  the  sodded  mounds ;  and  when 
the  thought  came  upon  him,  he  gasped  for  breath, 
and  leaned  heavily  against  the  fence.  That  mother 
had  been  a  beacon  which  had  guided  him  in  his  wan- 
derings towards  home,  and  he  felt  that  if  it  had  gone 
clown  in  the  grave,  there  was  no  hope  for  him.  The 
bruised  prodigal  felt  that  she  could  save  him,  and 


THE   STRANGFR   IN   THE   TARPAULIN.*'  185 

he  shuddered  as  he  cast  his  eye  upon  the  white  mar- 
ble that  stood  in  the  moonlight. 

Alfred  knew  where  his  brothers  and  sisters  were 
buried,  and,  as  if  dreading  some  fearful  revelation, 
he  passed  on  among  the  graves.  How  loud  the  sear 
leaves  in  the  hollows  rustled  in  the  stillness  of  the 
night.  "Weak,  trembling,  and  dizzy,  he  reached  the 
iron  paling,  and  for  a  moment  shut  his  eyes  in  dread. 
The  cold  drops  stood  out  upon  his  brow,  and  yet  his 
cheek  burned  hotly.  He  lifted  his  tarpaulin  from  hia 
head,  and  as  the  cool  night  wind  stirred  his  shaggy 
locks,  he  felt  strengthened.  And  there,  in  that  en- 
closure, stood  a  large  marble  slab.  With  the  weak- 
ness of  a  child,  he  reached  out  and  clung  convulsive- 
ly to  the  monument,  and  read,  as  he  dropped  his  hat 
upon  the  grave,  "  Sacred  to  the  memory  of  MARY 
SNYDER,  who  died  May  10th,  18 — ,  aged  56." 

His  mother  was  dead,  and  the  grass  of  four  sum- 
mers had  been  green  on  her  grave.  That  beacon  to 
which  he  clung  for  salvation,  had  gone  down  in  the 
night  of  death,  and  he  was  alone  !  Her  arms  were 
not  spread  to  receive  him.  or  her  tears  of  welcome  to 
fall  upon  his  neck.  Hope  died  away  in  the  prodigal's 
heart,  the  graves  swam  around  him,  and  he  fell  heav- 
ily upon  the  leaf-covered  mound,  his  scalding  drops 
pouring  out  the  love  of  years,  and  mingling  with  the 
dew  which  trembled  like  gems  upon  the  rank  blades. . 

—  The  fallen  one  would  have  been  happy  could 
he  have  lain  his  head  by  the  side  of  his  mother's 
upon  its  pillow  of  earth,  and  \v  ith  her  been  at  rest. 


CHAPTEK   XYII. 

THE   TKIAL. 

As  the  time  approached  for  the  trial  of  Ricks,  the 
circumstances  of  his  crime  were  again  brought  to  the 
public  attention  with  an  interest  equal  to  their  first 
development.  His  conviction  and  execution  were 
looked  upon  as  a  matter  of  course. 

Time  had  laid  a  heavy  hand  upon  the  murderer 
during  his  imprisonment,  and  the  days  had  been  dark 
and  dreary.  There  were  none  of  kin  to  befriend  him  in 
this  great  trouble,  and  there  were  few  in  the  commu- 
nity who  ever  gave  a  thought  to  the  prisoner  in  his 
cell.  Elder  Snyder  had  never  yet  seen  Hicks  since 
his  confinement,  but  had  contented  himself  with 
thundering  wrath  upon  his  head  from  the  pulpit. 

But  there  was  one  who  visited  him  often.  The 
penitent  and  humble  criminal  hac1  learned  to  listen  to 
her  footfall  as  that  of  an  angel  of  peace.  To  her  he 
was  indebted  for  many  a  comfort,  and  many  a  word 
of  kindness  and  consolation.  Hers  was  the  only 
countenance  which  had  smiled  upon  him  in  his  soli- 
tude. 'Her  woman's  heart  had  sympathized  with  his, 
and  her  tears  had  mingled  with  his  tears,  while,  with 
the  calm  and  cheering  faith  of  the  Christian,  she 
pointed  him  to  one  who  could  save  to  the  uttermost. 


THE   TRIAL.  187 

There  was  a  sublimity  in  the  scene  — the  red-handed 
murderer  bowing  and  weeping  like  a  child,  as  the 
gentle  friend  plead  in  her  sweet  low  voice  for  one  so 
deeply  guilty.  "When  those  who  had  shared  the  pris- 
oner's too  generous  bounty  left  him  to  his  fate  with- 
out a  word  of  commiseration,  the  daughter  of  the  man 
who  had  brought  the  ruin  upon  him  clung  to  him 
like  a  sister.  As  Ricks  thought  of  all  she  had  done 
for  him,  he  forgot  much  of  his  bitterness  against  the 
father. 

So  strong  was  the  current  against  Ricks,  that  none 
of  the  lawyers  would  defend  him.  The  ruined  man 
had  no  money  or  wealthy  friends  with  which  to  com- 
mand aid.  On  the  day  before  the  trial,  the  one  at 
first  retained  avowed  his  determination  to  abandon 
the  case. 

"  You  are  a  sensible  man,"  responded  Hermon 
from  his  bar,  u  his  case  is  hopeless.  A  man  would  gain 
no  credit  or  money  in  such  a  case.  He  must  swing. >; 

"  And  he  ought  to,  if  ever  a  man  did,"  continued 
several  in  the  bar-room. 

"  There  are  those  who  deserve  the  rope  more ! " 
hissed  the  man  in  the  tarpaulin. 

"  That  may  be,"  retorted  Hermon,  looking  mean- 
ingly into  the  face  of  the  speaker. 

"  And  will  hang  yet ! "  deliberately  added  the 
stranger,  rising  to  confront  Hermon,  that  wild  eye 
kindling  with  unwonted  glitter,  as  it  gazed  into  that 
of  the  shrinking  landlord.  The  latter  turned  away 
as  from  a  reptile's  spring,  for  there  was  something 


188  MINNIE    IIEKMON. 

about  the  sailor  which  always  repelled  too  much 
license. 

"  And  why,  may  I  ask,"  said  Doctor  Howard,  who 
had  listened  to  the  conversation.  "  should  not  Ricks 
be  defended  ? " 

"He  owns  up,  and  what's  the  use?"  answered 
Herrnon,  glad  to  get  rid  of  the  sailor. 

"  But  the  worst  men  ere  entitled  to  counsel  Our 
laws  guarantee  it." 

"  But  he  has  nothing  to  pay.  Can't  expect  -people 
to  defend  a  gone  case  for  nothing." 

"  Perhaps,"  coolly  remarked  the  Doctor,  "  some  of 
his  friends  will  aid  him  with  means,  eh  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean,  sir,  by  ' 'friends  f ' "  angrily  de- 
manded Hermon. 

"  Those  who  have  Ms  mortey  in  their  pockets"  re- 
plied Howard,  looking  the  landlord  calmly  in  the 
eye. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  —  that  I  have  got 
any  of  his  money  ? " 

"  I  meant  what  I'said,"  continued  the  Doctor,  with 
coolness,  in  spite  of  the  angry  advance  and  menace 
of  Hermon.  "  Ricks  once  had  enough  to  employ  able 
and  honorable  counsel,  and  command  the  respect. of 
those  who  like  cowards  heap  their  venom  upon  his 
name."  The  shot  told,  and  there  was  a  brief  silence 
in  the  room.  Coloring  deeply,  the  lawyer  turned 
from  the  bar  where  he  had  just  swallowed  a  dram, 
and  inquired  of  Howard  if  he  meant  to  "  insinuate 
anytlv'ng  by  the  word  honorable." 


THE   TKIAL.  189 

"  Yes,  sir ;  and  to  make  the  matter  understood,  I 
now  say  that  no  honorable  man  would  desert  a  client 
because  his  cause  is  bad  and  his  purse  empty.  I 
trust  there  is  no  insinuation  about  that !  " 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,  sir, 

"  Just  what  I  did,  Mr.  Skillott,"  broke  in  the  Doc- 
tor, as  he  saw  the  former  move  towards  him  with 
clenched  fists.  "  Men  who  win  money  so  easy,  should 
not  desert  a  client  with  an  empty  purse  !  " 

"  But,"  said  Skillott,  in  a  more  softened  tone,  "  the 
man  is  a  bad  man.  He  acknowledges  himself  guilty 
of  a  brutal  murder,  and  declares  his  determination  to 
plead  guilty.  "What  is  the  use  of  a  defence  ?  " 

"Every  man,  sir,  is  entitled  to  a  defence.  Kicks, 
at  heart,  is  no  more  a  murderer  than  you,  or  I." 

"  How  can  you  make  that  out? " 
.  "  The  process  is  simple.     He  was  maddened  with 
liquor.     "When  sober,  he  loved  his  family  and  was 
kind." 

"  Nobody  was  to  blame  for  his  drinking  but  him 
self,  I  am  sure.  It  was  his  own  business." 

"The  man  who  sold  to  him  was  more  to  blame. 
He  knew  the  appetite  of  Ricks,  and  how  he  treated 
his  family  when  in  liquor,  and  in  rigid  justice  is  as 
much  guilty  of  the  crime  as  Iticks" 

"  You  're  a rascal  !  "  belched  Hermon,  spring- 
ing for  the  poker,  and  brandishing  it  over  Howard'8 
head.  There  was  a  crimson  flush  upon  the  cheek  of 
the  latter,  tut  it  passed  away,  and  he  eyed  his  infuri- 
ated enemy  with  a  steady  nerve. 


190  MINNIE   HERMON. 

"  Keep  cool,  Mr.  Ilermon ;  you  '11  find  it  a  more 
troublesome  matter  to  attack  a  sober  man  than  to  put 
a  drunken  one  into  the  street." 

"  You  deserve  to  be  kicked  into  the  street.  A 
murderer,  indeed ! "  muttered  the  landlord  of  the 
"  Home,"  as  he  trembled  with  rage. 

"  Mr.  Hermon,  there  are  ways  of  committing  mur- 
der without  coming  within  reach  of  human  laws. 
But  God's  laws  are  plain.  You  could  not  sell  arsenic 
to  a  man  who  you  knew  would  use  it  for  self-destruc- 
tion. You  cannot  dig  a  pit  that  a  neighbor  may  fall 
therein,  or  let  an  unruly  ox  run  at  large." 

"  But,  sir,  how  did  /ever  touch  Ricks'  family  ? " 

"  Touched  them  with  the  most  cruel  torture.  You 
knew  that  every  sixpence  Ricks  brought  you  waa 
needed  by  his  family,  and  yet  you  took  it  to  the  last 
one,  and  sent  there  that  which  you  knew  was  destroy- 
ing them  by  inches.  You  laid  the  train  to  their  door, 
liable  at  any  moment  to  produce  just  such  results  aa 
we  have  witnessed.  But  for  this  tavern,  Ricks  would 
now  be  an  innocent,  a  wealthy  and  an  honorable  man. 
If,  as  in  olden  time,  the  blood  of  the  murdered 
should  be  traced  to  the  nearest  threshold,  your  own 
would  be  crimsoned  with  the  blood  of  the  Ricks 
family." 

"False  as  h — 11 ! "  thundered  Ilermon.  "  I  have  a 
license  to  sell,  you  abusive  scoundrel,  and  am  not  ac- 
countable for  other  men's  doings.  I  tend  to  my  own 
business,  and  I  wish  others  would  mind  theirs." 

"  Be  sure  you  take  your  license  to  your  grave  and 


THE    TEIAL.  191 

to  God  ;  and  may  yen  find  that  and  your  own  hand 
guiltless  of  others'  blood  !  Good  morning,  Mr.  Her- 
mon,"  bowed  Howard,  slowly  turning  upon  his  heel 
and  going  out. 

"  Please  remember,  gentlemen,  what  that  man  said. 
I  '11  sweeten  him  for  slander,  or  my  name  ain't  Her- 
mon,"  hissed  the  exasperated  landlord,  as  he  turned 
into  his  bar. 

"  "We  (hie)  —  we  will,  and  more  too,"  stuttered  a 
poor  sot,  reeling  on  the  "  bunk  "  in  the  corner. 

"  Yes,  for  the  murderers  are  not  all  hung  yet," 
added  the  sailor,  as  he  sat  with  his  chin  in  his  palms. 

"  Take  that,  you  devil !  "  shouted  the  gored  land- 
lord, bringing  the  poker,  still  in  his  hand,  down 
fiercely  over  the  speaker. 

"With  the  spring  of  a  cat,  the  latter  writhed  from  the 
blow,  and  fastened  upon  the  throat  of  his  assailant. 

"  Playing  poker,  eh  ?  Think  to  train  Tarpaulin  be- 
cause he 's  crazy,  eh  ?  Not  so  easy  killing  sober  men  ! 
Stick  to  your  bottles,  and  let  iron  alone,  and  murder 
in  safety — ha,  ha,  ha!"  That  half-maniac  laugh 
fairly  burned  upon  Hermon's  cheek,  so  near  was  the 
face  of  the  sailor,  as  he  glanced  with  a  fiendish  glee 
upon  him.  That  iron  grip  would  have  proved  fatal 
in  a  moment  more,  for  his  eyes  rolled  back  in  his 
head,  and  his  tongue,  black  and  swollen,  protruded 
from  his  mouth. 

"  Stick  to  your  bottles,  Mr.  Hermon  ;  there  is  more 
blood  to  shed,  and  men  to  hang  !  "  hissed  the  sailor, 
as  he  released  Herrnon,  and  again  emitted  that  pecu- 


192  MINNIE   IIERMON. 

liar  chuckle.     When  Ilermon  recovered  his  voice,  the 
sailor  had  gone. 

Walter  1'rayton  had  just  completed  the  study  of 
the  law,  and  returned  to  Oakvale  on  the  evening  pre- 
ceding the  trial  of  Ricks.  His  generous  and  noble 
nature  was  indignant,  when  he  learned  that  his  coun- 
sel had  deserted  him  just  on  the  eve  of  his  trial. 
Walter's  resolution  was  taken,  and  he  immediately 
took  his  way  to  the  jail,  though  late  in  the  evening, 
for  the  purpose  of  offering  his  services  in  the  case. 

It  was  with  the  utmost  difficulty  that  Walter  ob- 
tained admittance  to  the  prison.  Had  not  the  -jailer 
been  a  personal  friend,  the  doors  would  have  been 
closed  against  him  ;  for  the  sheriff,  Landlord  Ilermon, 
had  that  day  strictly  forbidden  such  privileges  to  the 
prisoner.  "I  have  already  violated  the  injunction," 
said  the  kind-hearted  man,  as  he  put  the  key  in  the 
lock. 

As  they  entered  the  passage  leading  to  the  cell  a 
female  figure,  deeply  muffled,  stood  at  the  grated 
door  awaiting  the  coming  of  the  jailer.  As  the  pon- 
derous engine  swung  grating  back,  the  figure,  drawing 
the  hood  still  more  closely  over  her  features,  passed 
lightly  and  swiftly  out. 

"That,"  said  the  jailer,  "is  the  only  person,  Law- 
jrer  Skillott  excepted,  who  has  ever  visited  Kicks 
lince  his  confinement." 

"  I  was  not  aware,"  said  Brayton,  "  that  the  unfor- 
tunate man  had  any  kindred  left.  Who  can  she  be  ? J; 
he  continued,  in  a  tono  of  surprise. 


THE   TRIAL.  193 

<(  I  am  not  at  liberty  to  tell  her  name,  even  to  you  ; 
but  she  is  one  of  the  angels  of  earth,  and  never  fails, 
in  any  weather,  to  visit  the  prisoner.  A  thousand 
comforts,  sir,  and  what  is  more,  kind  and  forgiving 
words,  have  come  from  her.  I  have  been  blamed  for 
it  all,  but  she  comes  and  goes  in  the  night,  and  I  could 
not  help  it.  Her  voice  would  open  the  doors  them- 
selves, it  seems  to  me,  it  is  so  soft  and  kind,  and  her 
face  is  so  sad.  Poor  girl,  she  is  seeing  sorrow,"  and 
the  kind-hearted  man  brushed  away  a  tear  with  his 
sleeve. 

Bray  ton  found  Ricks  bowed  over  his  Bible  and  in 
tears,  but  the  latter  welcomed  his  young  visitor  with 
a  smile.  To  Walter's  proposition,  however,  he  main- 
tained a  determined  opposition  for  a  long  time. 

"  But,"  said  Walter,  earnestly,  laying  his  hand  upon 
the  prisoner's  arm,  "  you  are  not  entirely  indifferent 
to  the  opinion. of  the  world.  You  are  looked  upon  as 

one  of  the  most  cold-blooded  of   

"  Murderers,  you  would  say,"  broke  in  Ricks,  with  a 
shudder,  as  Walter  hesitated. 

"But,"  continued  the  latter, "you  are  not.  You 
were  maddened  with  rum.  You  loved  your  wife  and 
children  as  well  as  any  man.  By  these  memories, 
and  for  your  own  name,  it  is  your  duty  as  well  as  a 
privilege  to  make  a  defence.  To  be  sure,  the  case  is 
a  dark  one,  but  we  can  hope  for  the  best." 

"  Hope  !  "  echoed  Ricks,  in  a  hollow  voice,  "  I  hope 
for  nothing  but  the  rest  of  the  grave  ;  —  I  dare  not 
hope  for  Heaven.  And  yet,  Walter,  as  I  am  a  dying 


194:  MINNIE   HERMON. 

man,  I  am  not  a  cold-blooded  murderer,"  and  the 
cheek  blushed  redly  at  his  own  words.  "  I  did  love 
Mary  and  my  children.  God !  what  a  horrible 
dream,"  he  muttered,  as  he  bowed  his  face  in  the 
open  book  before  him,  until  the  pages  were  wet  with 
hot  tears. 

"But  I  have-not  a  farthing  in  the  world,"  said 
Kicks,  looking  up. 

"  Don't  speak  of  money,"  quickly  replied  Brayton. 
"  I  am  young,  and  have  no  experience,  but  it  will 
afford  me  a  happiness  you  will  not  deny  me,  I  am 
sure,  to  allow  me  to  aid  you  what  I  can." 

"  Well,  let  it  be  as  you  wish,  but  it  will  be  of  no 
use.  Yet  I  shall  owe  you  much  for  your  kindness, 
for  the  friends  who  have  remembered  me  in  my  mis- 
fortune are  few.  But  one  friend,  besides  yourself 
and  the  jailer,  sir,  has  ever  been  within  these  walls. 
May  God  bless  her  for  what  she  has  done  for  me. 
Her  father,  though  he  has  ruined  me,  has  even  or- 
dered that  a  friend  should  not  see  me." 

"  Her  father !     And  she  whom  we  met  was    

" Minnie  Herman"  added  Ricks.  "  Her  kindness 
alone  has  made  life  bearable.  Would  that  I  had  her 
faith  in  the  Redeemer  ! " 

— Walter  went  out  with  a  holier  love  for  the  rum- 
seller's  daughter. 


The  streets  of  Oakvale  were  thronged  early  on  the 
day  of  the  trial.     By  the  time  the  court  opened,  the 


THE   TRIAL.  195 

court-room  was  packed  by  the  people  of  the  village 
and  the  surrounding  country,  the  dense  mass  swaying 
in  excitement  as  the  prisoner  was  brought  in  and 
placed  at  the  bar.  Revengeful  feelings  gave  way  in 
many  a  heart  to  the  nobler  one  of  sympathy  and  pity, 
as  those  who  had  known  Ricks  once,  looked  upon 
him  now.  He  had  come  forth  from  his  cell  with  his 
hair  of  a  snowy  white,  and  the  form  and  bearing  of 
an  old  man.  In  the  darkness  of  his  imprisonment, 
the  bronze  had  faded  from  his  cheek  and  brow,  and 
they  were  now  of  an  ashy  paleness.  There  was  a  slight 
flush  on  his  features,  as  he  looked  round  upon  the  mul- 
titude. As  he  seated  himself,  his  eye  fell  upon  a 
pitcher  of  flowers  standing  before  him,  made  up  of 
the  choicest  of  the  season,  and  tastefully  arranged. 
The  prisoner  well  knew  what  hand  placed  them  there, 
and  the  thought,  of  her,  with  the  perfume  of  the  flow- 
ers, stole  like  a  cooling  shadow  upon  his  burning 
cheek. 

"Who  is  your  counsel?"  asked  the  judge  of  the 
prisoner,  as  it  was  well  known  that  Skillott  had  re- 
fused to  have  anything  more  to  do  with  the  defence. 
Ricks  looked  around,  and  a  shadow  passed  across  his 
features,  as  he  felt  that  young  Brayton,  too,  had  been 
overawed  by  the  strong  sentiment  against  him.  At 
that  moment  the  stalwart  form  of  Walter  Brayton 
was  seen  crowding  up  the  opening  in  front  of  the  bar. 
Slightly  pale,  but  apparently  calm,  the  boy  advocate 
took  his  seat  by  the  prisoner,  and  to  the  usual  ques- 
tion fh'mly  answered  "  not  guilty  !  " 


196  MINNIE   HEEMON. 

The  outside  interest  increased  at  the  prospect  of  a 
struggle,  but  the  cause  of  the  defence  seemed  so  utter- 
ly hopeless,  that  the  better  portion  of  the  audience 
turned  with  pity  from  the  prisoner  and  his  counsel, 
and  all  wondered  at  Brayton's  temerity  in  underta- 
king the  case  against  such  odds.  Skillott,  now  en- 
gaged on  the  prosecution,  smiled  with  ill-concealed 
contempt,  not  unmingled  with  delight,  as  he  counted 
upon  an  easy  triumph.  Walter's  eye  fell  upon  the 
bouquet  before  him.  To  his  better-informed  mind,  it 
read  a  language  which  nerved  every  purpose  within 
him :  "  Hope,  faith,  courage,  deliverance  !  "  Wal- 
ter at  once  knew  that  the  messenger  spoke  to  the 
prisoner,  and  felt  a  thrill  as  he  recognized  the  hand 
of  the  author.  But  what  could  it  mean?  As  he 
raised  his  eyes  he  saw  the  sailor  gazing  upon  him 
with.a  meaning  but  mysterious  look. 

We  need  not  follow  the  trial  of  Ricks  through  in 
detail.  The  proof  was  conclusive,  and  left  not  a  loop- 
hole for  the  prisoner  to  hang  a  hope  upon. 

All  eyes  were  turned  upon  the  prisoner's  counsel 
as  he  arose  to  address  the  jury,  and  Bray  ton  himself 
felt  a  crushing  weight  upon  him.  There  was  a  tre- 
mor in  his  voice,  and  the  brief  shook  slightly  in  his 
hand.  An  insulting  sneer  rested  upon  the  face  of 
Skillott,  as  he  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  and  with  his 
thumbs  in  his  vest  looked  Brayton  full  in  the  face. 

Braytou  was  evidently  embarrassed,  and  blundered 
in  his  opening.  Tu  a  remark  that  he  was  inexperi- 
enced, Skillott  retorted  in  a  whispered  insult,  but 


THE   TKIAL.  197 

distinctly  heard  by  Brayton  and  the  bar.  The  half- 
suppressed  titter  stung  the  young  man,  but  he  was 
calm  —  fearfully  cool  and  calm.  The  crowd  were 
taken  by  surprise  at  the  matter  and  manner  of  the 
young  advocate.  To  a  voice  of  unusual  depth  and 
power,  and  a  mien  noble  and  commanding,  he  added 
a  rich  imagination,  a  mind  well  stored  with  reading, 
and  a  logic  relentlessly  close  and  convincing.  Turn- 
ing his  kindling  eye  upon  Skillott,  he  deliberately 
stated  the  cause  of  his  treachery  to  the  prisoner,  with 
comments  so  withering,  that  the  smile  passed  quickly 
from  the  face  of  that  veteran  advocate,  and  he  looked 
more  like  a  guilty  one  than  the  prisoner.  The  bold 
and  successful  castigation  of  one  so  dreaded  in  the 
courts,  produced  a  sensation  in  the  room,  and  people 
essayed  more  eagerly  to  catch  the  tones  of  the  speak- 
er: But  as  he  warmed  and  forgot  himself,  they 
swelled  and  rolled  until  distinctly  heard  by  the  vast 
throng  assembled  without.  The  oldest  in  the  profes- 
sion were  taken  by  surprise.  Braytou's  argument  ex- 
hibited so  perfect  a  knowledge  of  all  the  intricacies 
of  the  law ;  so  wide  and  thorough  an  acquaintance 
with  authorities ;  so  complete  a  mastery  of  every  av- 
enue to  the  human  heart,  —  skill  in  attacking  and  de- 
fending, and  exhaustless  power  of  illustration,  — that 
old  counselors  were  spell-bound  as  he  proceeded. 

After  going  through  with  the  testimony,  he  con- 
cluded : 

"  Gentlemen,  I  know  not  what  the  result  of  your  ver- 
dict may  be.  But  beware  how  human  prejudices  in 


198  MINNIE   HEEMON. 

flnence  your  decision  this  day.  The  unfortunate  man 
whose  life  is  at  stake,  may  be  guilty  of  wrong ;  but  it 
is  not  the  part  of  men — of  Christians,  to  pursue  an 
erring  brother  vindictively  into  the  very  presence  of 
a  final  Judge.  I  have  been  pained  at  the  unfeeling 
and  unforgiving  character  of  the  public  mind  in  rela- 
tion to  the  alleged  crime  of  the  prisoner  at  the  bar. 
He  was  in  prison  and  you  visited  him  not.  The  meek 
and  holy  Master,  who  wept  over  sin  and  spoke  kindly 
to  the  guilty,  has  found  no  representative  in  your 
midst,  save  one,  to  extend  the  most  common  human 
sympathy  to  the  lone  one  in  his  cell. 

"  Gentlemen,  you  are  all  the  creatures  of  circum 
stances — of  education.  The  ordeal  that  tries  men, 
brings  out  their  true  character.  Who  among  us  shall 
dare  to  say  that  no  temptation  could  shake  him  from 
his  position?  Man  does  not  know  himself.  The 
strongest  of  to-day,  tried  by  adversity  to-morrow,  may 
fail  —  the  best  may  err. 

"  Lo^k  at  —  Ricks,  gentlemen !  Until  his  ruin  by 
a  vice  now  too  lamentably  prevalent,  and  the  acts 
now  alleged  against  him,  was  he  not  the  peer  of  the 
proudest  in  this  community  ?  "Who  of  you  ever  heard 
ought  against  him  or  his  ?  His  honor  was  untarnish- 
ed by  an  unworthy  word  or  deed,  his  generosity  al- 
most a  fault,  and  his  worth,  as  a  man  and  a  citizen, 
equal  to  any.  What  wrought  his  ruin  ?  The  ff.nil 
and  festering  hell  of  corruption,  whose  fumes  even 
now  come  up  into  the  precincts  of  the  very  temple 
of  justice.  Your  tavern  ruined  him.  But  for  that,  a 


^  THE   TRIAL.  199 

good  citizen  would  stand  blameless  among  you  to- 
day, and  a  husband  and  father  dwell  in  peace  in  the 
bosom  of  a  happy  wife  and  children.  And  are  there 
none  to  blame  for  all  this  ruin  ?  Before  God,  I  be- 
lieve the  people  of  this  community  as  guilty  of  the 
destruction  of  the  Kicks  family,  as  the  prisoner  at  the 
bar.  To  be  sure,  they  did  not  strike  the  blow.  But 
their  agents,  the  members  of  the  excise  board,  signed 
their  death  warrant ;  and  while  at  their  homes  and 
their  prayers^  the  devilish  work  was  carried  out. 
The  victim  was  first  bound  in  the  chains  of  an  appe- 
tite, which  has  ruined  the  strongest  intellects  ever 
created,  his  substance  taken  from  him,  and  his  brain 
maddened  with  poison.  Under  the  direct  influence 
of  liquor,  then  and  now  sold  by  law  in  this  communi- 
ty, he  committed  the  deed  charged  upon  him.  Who 
placed  that  temptation  in  his  way?  Are  none  but 
him  guilty  of  the  fatal  results?  The  rum  which 
caused  the  deed,  went  from  your  tavern.  As  I  once 
dared  to  say,  it  has  proved  a  curse  indeed.  You 
have,  Prometheus  like,  chained  down  the  victim,  and 
then  let  loose  vultures  to  tear  him.  There  are  acces- 
sories to  this  triple  murder,  who  are  not  punished  by 
law.  The  people  and  their  agents  are  particeps  wim- 
inis.  They  have  aided  and  abetted  the  sweeping 
tragedy.  There  is  broad  trail  of  blood  from  the  ruined 
altar  of  the  Ricks  family  to  your  own,  and  the  thresh- 
old of  your  tavern.  The  unoffending  wife  and  inno- 
cent children  died  legally  —  died  by  authority  of  the 
people  of  Oakvale  —  died  a  revolting  and  cruel  death, 


200  MINNIE 

under  a  warrant,  with  your  names,  through  your  del- 
egated instruments,  attached  in  full  to  the  parchment 
of  blood  ! 

"  Gentlemen,  this  prisoner  is  not  the  only  one  who 
is  to  enter  this  room  in  custody.  Pauperism  and 
crime  are  being  manufactured  in  our  midst  at  a  fear- 
ful pace.  A  fearful  change  has  corne  over  our  once 
peaceful  and  happy  village.  Our  families  have  been 
ruined,  and  our  fields  turned  to  waste.  Pauperism 
stalks  your  streets  in  its  rags.  Blood!  —  innocent 
blood,  smokes  hotly  from  the  licensed  butchery  of  the 
rum  demon.  There  is  a  note  of  sorrow,  and  a  maniac 
wail  upon  the  ear.  Mabel  Dunham  and  her  imbru- 
ted  father  —  Hinsonin  your  jail,  with  the  flesh  bitten 
from  his  arms,  and  his  body  drenched  in  blood  —  an 
esteemed  citizen  frozen  within  sight  of  his  own  door 
— the  Watt  family  at  this  hour  weeping  around  the 
corpse  of  a  broken-hearted  mother  —  Ricks  the  elder, 
of  revolutionary  memory,  with  the  snows  of  winter  in 
his  thin  locks,  and  the  frost  in  his  eye — a  once  happy 
family;  at  rest  in  a  bloody  grave  —  families  once 
wealthy  and  respectable,  now  living  as  town  paupers 
—  scores  now  doomed  to  the  same  fate,  and  desola- 
tion and  wo  scattering  broadcast  among  all  classes, — 
all  point  to  your  liquor  business  as*  the  source  of  all ! 
Blood  cries  from  the  ground,  and  fresh  tragedies  will 
startle,  when  too  late,  a  guilty  community  from  its 
deathly  slumbers. 

"  But  I  will  not  detain  you  longer.  I  leave  the 
fate  of  the  prisoner  with  you  and  with  God.  There 


THE   TRIAL.  201 

are  few  to  weep  in  the  event  of  a  conviction,  for  he 
has  no  kindred  on  earth.  The  last  of  a  noble  family 
is  before  you,  charged  with  a  capital  crime.  Those 
whom  he  loved,  as  you  love  those  dear  to  you,  are  in 
their  graves.  Whatever  may  be  the  result,  may  this 
community  bear  in  mind  the  period  when  the  prisoner 
at  the  bar  was  all  that  a  parent,  husband,  and  citizen 
should  be,  and  as  you  go  to  your  homes  this  night, 
ask  yourselves  the  question  —  what  caused  the  fall  of 
one  so  high  in  your  estimation  ? " 

There  were  few  dry  eyes  in  the  audience  during 
portions  of  the  plea  for  the  prisoner.  The  judge's  lip 
even  quivered  with  emotion.  In  the  minds  of  some, 
new  light  had  dawned  in  relation  to  the  liquor 
business,  while  others  ground  their  teeth,  and  watched 
the  bold  advocate  with  lowering  brows. 

Skillott's  plea  was  labored  and  bitter  —  aimed  more 
at  Brayton  and  his  "  dastardly  slanders  "  upon  a  re- 
spectable community  and  profession.  He  evidently 
writhed  under  the  reflection  that  he  had  met  with  an 
antagonist  more  than  his  match. 

The  charge  was  feeling  but  plain,  and  after  a  brief 
deliberation,  the  jury  returned  a  verdict  of  "guilty." 
On  being  asked  if  he  had  anything  to  say,  Ricks  arose 
and  said : 

"  I  have  but  a  word  to  say,  I  wish  to  look  you, 
gentlemen,  in  the  face,  and  every  neighbor  in  this 
room,  and  before  God,  declare  that  I  am  not  a  delib- 
erate, willful  murderer.  I  loved  my  wife  and  chil- 
dren when  I  let  rum  alone.  To  that  alone  I  owe  my 


202  MINNIE    HERMOW. 

ruin  and  my  crime.  I  do  not  fear  to  die,  —  there  is 
no  tie  which  binds  me  to  earth.  If  my  poor  life  would 
restore  my  wife  and  her  children  —  my  own  good 
name,  and  our  unblighted  home,  I  should  die  happy. 
May  all  beware  of  the  cause  of  my  fall." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE   GALLOWS   CHEATED   OF   A   PREY THE  PEOPLE   OF   A 

BIGHT. 

LATE  in  the  night  previous  to  the  day  appointed 
for  the  execution  of  Ricks,  Minnie  Hermon  was  pass- 
ing from  the  jail  to  the  "  Home."  For  the  last  time 
she  had  stolen  to  the  cell  of  Ricks,  to  administer  a  kind 
word,  and  to  ask  forgiveness  for  her  father. 

As  she  passed  out  into  the  yard,  and  between  the 
jail  and  the  court-house,  she  was  confronted  by  a  tall 
form  standing  immovably  in  her  path.  She  was 
startled,  but  did  not  cry  out,  as  many  would  have 
done,  at  so  abrupt  a  meeting  in  the  dark.  The  intru- 
der manifested  no  disposition  to  stir  from  the  passage, 
and  remained  silent.  Minnie  mustered  firmness  to 
demand  the  cause  of  the  interruption,  and  who  it  was 
who  thus  intruded  himself  upon  a  defenceless  woman. 

"A  friend.  You  know  '  Crazy  Alf.'  You  gave 
him  bread,  and  treated  him  kindly." 

"  If  you  are  a  friend,  let  me  pass,  and  you  shall 
never  want  when  you  ask  bread  again.  Do  not  de- 
tain me  here." 

"  Miss  Hermon  is  a  friend  of  the  prisoner  ?"  whis- 
pered All',  not  stirring  from  his  tracks. 

"  I  am,  and  hope  you  are,"  replied  Minnio,  now 


204  MINNIE 

thoroughly  alarmed,  fearing  that  her  movements  had 
been  watched  for  no  good  purpose. 

"  /  am  —  must  not  be  hung  —  horrible !  " 

"  "What  can  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Hist !  Speak  lower.  Ricks  not  a  bad  man  — 
never  do  wrong  again  —  must  not  Jiang  !  " 

"  I  do  not  understand  you.  He  is  to  be  hung  to- 
morrow," and  Minnie  shuddered  at  the  word. 

"Must  not  hang,  I  tell  you.  Murderers  not  all 
hung  yet  —  give  him  wings  /  " 

"How?— what? ;' 

"  You  do  not  want  him  hung  —  do  no  good  —  bring 
no  dead  back.  Must  let  him  go  !  " 

"  How  can  that  be  ?  Would  it  be  right  ?  "  asked 
the  eager  girl. 

"  Right  to  cheat  the  gallows  ?  —  to  cheat  rum  ?  — 
to  let  a  penitent  go  to  do  better  ?  "  '  No  more  a  mur- 
derer than  /  am  f.  " 

Minnie  startled  at  the  firm  energy  of  that  "  I  am." 
It  was  ground  between  the  teeth  with  a  shudder. 

"  "What  can  be  done  ? "  she  timidly  asked. 

"  Take  this  to  the  prisoner  —  you  can  do  it,"  and 
he  drew  something  from  his  sleeve  and  held  it  towards 
Minnie.  She  involuntarily  reached  out  and  clasped 
some  hard  substance  wrapped  in  a  paper. 

"  God  forbid !    You  would  not  have  him  commit  — 

"  No,  no.  But  he  has  iron  to  gnaw  before  he  can 
fly." 

Minnie  was  easily  convinced  that  the  ends  of  jus- 
tice would  be  just  as  well  answered  in  the  escape  of 


THE  GALLOWS  CHEATED.  205 

Kicks,  as  in  his  execution ;  for  her  woman's  heart 
shrank  from  the  latter  alternative,  and  she  turned 
back  toward  the  jail. 

The  bar-room  was  full  on  the  evening  preceding  the 
day  of  execution,  and  the  event  of  the  morrow  was 
earnestly  discussed.  Hermon  was  mellow,  and  spoke 
with  brutal  levity  of  his  duties  as  sheriff  at  the  scaf- 
fold. Rum  flowed  freely,  and  the  probable  bearing 
of  the  condemned  was  canvassed  over  jingling  glasses. 

Unnoticed  by  the  intoxicated  group,  "  Crazy  Alt'" 
had  stolen  into  the  room,  and  seated  himself  in  the 
corner,  behind  the  stove,  his  eye  wearing  an  unusual 
glitter  as  he  watched  their  movements.  In  reaching 
for  wood,  Hermon  stumbled  over  the  strange  creature, 
and  recoiled  at  the  touch. 

"•Many  a  worse  fall,  yet,  Sheriff  Hermon !  — ha  ! 
ha !  "  hissed  Alf,  rising  to  his  full  height. 

"  Come,  come,  Alf,  none  of  your  vinegar.  Let'a 
be  friends,  and  take  something." 

"  Guess  I  will  —  we  must  know  each  other  better, 
eh  ?  "  and  Alf  followed  Hermon  to  the  bar.  None 
saw  the  former  turn  his  brandy  down  the  outside  of 
his  throat,  into  his  bosom,  but  rather  made  themselves 
merry  over  the  apparent  effects  of  the  liquor  upon 
the  half-crazed  sailor.  Alf  craved  more,  and  drank 
again  and  again  with  Hermon,  the  latter  glad  to  thus 
win  the  good  will  of  a  troublesome  customer.  The 
sailor  was  forward  to  display  his  money,  and  all  drank 
at  his  expense. 

Herrn  )n  was  soon  reeling,  and  in  passing  out  of  the 


206  MINNIE  HEKMON. 

bar  to  assist  a  traveler,  lie  lost  his  balance,  and  fell 
headlong. 

"  "Worse  falls  than  that,  yet,"  came  from  Alf  in  that 
peculiar,  bitter  tone,  as  Hermon  arose  to  his  feet  by 
the  aid  of  a  chair  and  the  arm  of  the  traveler.  When 
the  landlord  of  the  Home  again  looked  for  the  sailor, 
that  personage  had  gone,  and  none  had  witnessed  his 
stealthy  exit. 

"All  drunk  and  Alf  sober.  Now  for  it,  while  rum 
and  darkness  lasts,"  said  he  as  he  swiftly  glided  down 
the  street.  Creeping  under  a  long  tier  of  sheds,  after 
'listening  a  moment  in  the  court-house  grounds,  he 
drew  forth  a  long,  light  ladder,  and  carried  it  across 
the  garden,  and  to  the  rear  of  the  jail.  All  was  dark 
and  still,  the  rain  now  steadily  "falling,  and  the  wind 
beating  in  gusts  as  Alf  proceeded  to  carefully  raise 
his  ladder  and  rest  the  top  against  the  top  of  the 
grated  window  of  the  cell  where  Ricks  was  confined. 
At  this  juncture,  the  jealous  dog  noticed  the  move- 
ment, and  came  growling  from  the  woodshed.  Alf 
was  a  familiar  character  about  the  premises,  and  he 
called  the  dog  to  him. 

"  Hate  to  do  it,  but  men  worth  more  than  dogs," 
he  muttered,  throttling  the  unsuspecting  mastiff,  and 
cutting  his  throat  from  ear  to  ear.  When  the  dog  be- 
came still  in  his  hands,  he  dropped  him  and  cautiously 
ascended  the  ladder. 

Portions  of  the  iron  window  had  been  cut  and  left 
to  be  easily  removed,  by  Aif,  some  days  before,  and 
it  was  but  a  moment's  work  to  lift  out  the  bars  and 


THE  GALLOWS  CHEATED.  207 

/ 

silently  tie  them  to  the  ladder  so  as  to  avoid  noise. 
Lifting  the  window  by  hair's  breadths,  he  leaned  in 
and  listened  for  a  long  time.  He  had  feared  that  the 
officers  would  watch  with  the  prisoner  during  the 
night;  butllermon  was  drunk,  and  the  jailer  absent 
by  a  cunning  ruse.  Alf  could  hear  but  one  person 
breathing  in  the  cell,  and  he  ventured  to  whisper  the 
name  of  the  prisoner. 

"  "Who  calls  ?  "  slowly  answered  the  latter,  doubting 
the  evidence  of  his  hearing,  and  rousing  from  his  cot. 

"A  friend." 

"  And  why  here  ?  " 

"To  save.     Do  no  good  to  hang  !  " 

Ricks  shuddered.  The  word  entered  his  soul  like 
the  chill  of  death,  and  crept  through  every  vein,  as 
the  scaffold  and  the  crowd  loomed  distinctly  out  in 
the  darkness  of  his  cell.  To  hang !  He  closed  his 
eyes  to  shut  out  the  horrible  phantom,  but  it  was  still 
there  —  his  neighbors  staring  at  the  solemn  spectacle, 
and  the  victim,  wearing  his  own  features,  ghastly 
and  swollen,  looking  down  from  the  scaifold  in  his 
shroud  of  white. 

"  James  Ricks !  are  you  ready  ?  "  impatiently  de- 
manded Alf,  leaning  still  farther  into  the  cell. 

"  Ready  for  what  ?  "  muttered  the  former,  confused 
and  hardly  knowing  whether  he  was  awake  or  asleep. 

"Ready  to  leave.  Do  no  good  to  hang,  tell  ye.  Go 
off  and  be  a  better  man." 

"  I  begin  to  understand  you.  But  why  flee  ? " 
asked  the  prisoner  sadly  and  proudly.  "  I  deserve 

o 


208  MnraiE  HEKMON. 


my  fate,  and  will  meet  it  like  a  man.  How  conld  1 
escape  if  I  would  !  "  Ricks  contin  led,  as  a  thought  of 
life  and  liberty  shot  like  lightning  to  his  heart,  and 
made  it  beat  wildly  in  his  bosom.  "  The  brand  is 
upon  me,  and  justice  would  dog  me  wherever  I  went. 
Do  not  excite  within  me  hopes  which  cannot  be  re- 
alized." 

"  Excite  no  false  hopes.  Do  no  good  to  hang,  tell 
ye  !  nobody  thank  ye  for  't.  Go  off  —  do  good,  and 
die  natral." 

Liberty  is  ever  sweet.  It  lives  and  throbs  in  every 
heart.  In  spite  of  crime,  of  sorrow,  of  bolts  and 
chains,  its  flame  lingers  in  the  human  heart,  and  kin- 
dles up  at  the  sound  of  deliverance.  The  slave  dreams 
of  it  while  at  his  task,  and  in  his  weary  slumbers. 
The  captive  watches  the  sunlight,  and  the  prison  walls 
cannot  hide  from  his  vision  the  distant  home  and  hills, 
Tyranny  cannot  crush  it  ;  iron  cannot  bind  it,  or  steel 
kill  it.  'Mid  ruin  it  smoulders.  Like  the  captive  ea 
gle,  it  beats  its  fetters  as  it  listens  to  the  wild  scream 
in  the  distance. 

Ricks  had  thought  to  meet  his  fate  with  resigna- 
tion, convinced  of  its  justice  and  necessity.  But  the 
love  of  liberty  and  life  is  sweet  and  never-dying.  At 
the  word  of  hope,  that  love  grew  wildly  strong,  and 
an  ignominious  death  upon  the  scaffold  was  dreadful. 
He  quickly  rose  upon  his  feet,  but  to  sink  again,  as 
the  sound  of  the  clanking  fetters  fell  like  lead  to  his 
heart. 

"JDeoils!"  hissed  Alf.     "Chains  on  yet?    Why 


THE  GALLOWS  CHEATED.  209 

didn't  you  cut  'em  —  nobody  bring  a  file  here,  eh  ?  " 
and  the  sailor  swung  like  a  cat  in  upon  the  dungeon 
floor. 

"A  friend  did  bring  something,  but  I  supposed  it  a 
knife,  and  would  not  undo  it,"  and  here  light  flashed 
into  the  mind  of  Ricks. 

"  No  knife  — file  —  should  'a  used  it." 

But  Alf  was  not  to  be  foiled.  Feeling  from  the 
staple  in  the  wall  to  the  ancle  of  the  prisoner,  he 
found  a  link  through  which  he  could  put  the  ends  of 
two  of  the  window  gratings,  and  prying  in  opposite 
directions,  the  link  was  broken  with  ease.  The  same 
process  wrenched  the  padlock  from  the  fetter,  and  the 
limbs  of  the  prisoner  were  free.  ISTone  can  tell  the 
strange,  wild  emotions  that  stirred  the  heart,  for  he 
had  given  himself  up  to  the  hope  of  freedom,  and 
escape  from  an  ignominious  death.  Tears  fell  upon 
the  hands  of  Alf  as  the  latter  removed  the  iron  from 
the  calloused  ancle. 

Swiftly  and  cautiously  the  two  descended  the  lad- 
der, and  crossed  the  fields  to  the  river.  A  skiff  was 
hidden  in  the  underbrush  which  lined  the  bank,  into 
which  the  two  sprang,  and  with  a  noiseless  stroke,  Alf 
struck  out  for  the  opposite  shore.  An  hour's  walk 
after  landing,  took  them  several  miles  up  the  ra- 
vine, by  a  foot-path  which  led  over  the  mountains 
and  across  the  wilderness  to  Pennsylvania.  At  a  de- 
serted sugar  cabin,  a  horse  was  found  saddled  and 
fastened  in  a  dense  undergrowth. 

"Haunt!"  whispered  Alf,  with  emphasis,  as  tc 


210  MINNIE   HEKMON. 

unhitclied  the  spirited  animal  and  led  him  before 
Ricks. 

"  But  the  horse  is  not  mine,"  said  the  latter,  yet 
proud  and  honorable  as  in  his  better  days. 

"Devil.  I  know  that ;  mine,  though.  Time  lost, 
tell  ye.  Away  !  Better  ride  than  hang !  "  and  Alf 
seized  the  emaciated  form  of  Ricks  in  his  powerful 
grasp  and  swung  him  into  the  saddle  as  though  he 
had  been  a  child. 

"  There !  "  putting  the  reins  into  his  hands,  "money 
and  bread  in  bags.  Shun  daylight  and  rum.  Re- 
member Crazy  Alf  and  Minnie  Hermon  —  ply  the 
gad  !  "  and  ere  the  excited  Ricks  could  thank  his  de- 
liverer, the  latter  had  disappeared  with  rapid  strides 
down  the  dark  gorge. 

Alf  muttered  that  peculiar  chuckle  as  he  listened 
to  the  quick  ringing  of  hoofs  up  the  mountain,  and 
strode  muttering  back  to  the  place  where  he  had  left 
his  boat.  It  was  brief  work  to  replace  the  bars  in 
the  jail  window,  to  wrench  his  ladder  in  pieces  and 
cast  it  into  the  river,  and  steal  away  to  the  deserted 
hut  where  he  sometimes  found  a  shelter. 

There  was  intense  excitement  in  Oakvale  on  the 
morning  of  the  day  appointed  for  the  execution  of 
Ricks.  On  visiting  the  cell  at  day-break,  but  the 
irons  which  were  upon  the  prisoner  remained,  and 
no  farther  signs  which  revealed  the  manner  of  his 
escape.  By  the  appointed  hour,  more  than  five  thou- 
sand people  had  assembled.  To  the  disgrace  of  our 
common  humanity,  we  are  compelled  to  say  that  a 


THE  GALLOWS  CHEATED.  211 

large  class  of  both  sexes  manifested  much  ill  temper 
in  their  disappointment.  The  immense  throng  at  the 
scaffold  finally  gathered  in  the  rear  of  the  jail,  as  it 
became  known  that  the  prisoner  made  his  escape  from 
the  window,  and  until  a  late  hour  discussed  the  mat- 
ter, and  gazed  at  the  gloomy  window  as  though  they 
hoped  to  see  the  prey  of  the  scaffold  still  within 
reach. 

Hermon,  intoxicated  with  excitement  and  rum, 
stormed  imprecations  upon  those  who  procured  the 
escape  ;  for  it  was  evident  from  the  tracks  to  the 
window,  that  two  persons  had  left  the  jail.  Consta- 
iMes  and  parties  returned  late  in  the  afternoon,  finding 
i\o  indication  unusual,  save  the  tracks  of  a  horse  un- 
der full  gallop,  but  headed  towards  the  river. 

Alf  had  himself  shod  the  horse  with  the  shoes  re- 
versed, and  with  a  lurking  sneer  he  walked  up  to 
•vhere  Hermon  stood  in  the  crowd,  and  looked  him 
pteadily  in  the  eye. 

"  Bird  flown,  eh  ?  Didn't  catch  him,  s'pose.  Mur- 
derers not  all  hung  yet !  —  ha  !  ha  !  " 

Hermon  turned  away  from  that  dreaded  eye  and 
entered  the  house.  Drunkenness,  rioting  and  horse- 
racing  ended  the  day's  h'story. 


CHATTER   XIX. 

THE   WATT  FAMILY. 

IN  Rhode  Island,  many  years  ago,  there  lived  a 
Wealthy  family  by  the  name  of  How  —  their  worth 
and  standing  equal  to  their  worldly  means. 

With  a  morning  sky  unclouded,  and-  light  with 
hope,  the  accomplished  and  favorite  daughter  of  Major 
How  married  an  estimable  young  man  by  the  name 
of  Watt,  a  gentleman  of  high  integrity,  honor,  and 
irreproachable  private  character.  His  future  was  full 
of  promise,  and  he  took  his  young  bride  to  a  homo 
of  happiness  and  affluence. 

The  customs  of  the  day  stealthily  fastened  a  love 
of  wine  in  the  system  of  young  Watt,  gathering 
strength  while  the  victim  dreamed  not  of  danger. 
Indeed  he  would  have  laughed  at  the  idea  of  danger 
to  a  man  of  his  mind  and  position.  The  current 
swept  beneath  with  a  swifter  tide,  while  he  beat  the 
waves  with  feebler  stroke.  It  was  long  before  Ber- 
tha Watt  realized  the  fall  of  her  heart's  idol.  Day 
by  day  brought  the  fearful  truth  to  her  mind,  until 
the  heart-crushing  conviction  fell  like  a  stunning  blow 
upon  her  happiness  and  hopes.  She  was  not  the  wo- 
man to  complain.  Proud  of  the  world's  opinion,  but 
meek  and  gentle,  she  suffered  alone  with  her  tears. 


BERTHA.  WATT. 


THE  WATT   FAMILY.  215 

hiding  the  ragged  iron  in  her  soul.  Bertha  had  none 
of  that  sterner  stuff  in  her  nature  which  rallies  as  the 
storm  beats  down  hope  after  hope ;  but  alone  with 
her  babes,  her  shrinking  and  trusting  spirit,  as  mild 
as  the  sky  of  summer,  suffered  on.  The  young  cheek 
paled,  and  the  light  grew  dim  in  the  eye.  She  would 
not,  for  a  world,  have  spoken  to  her  high-minded  and 
sensitive  husband  of  the  dark  vice  which  already  left 
a  broad  shadow  of  coming  ill  at  their  hearth-side. 

In  their  new  home  near  Lake  George,  in  York 
State,  the  almost-despairing  wife  and  mother  hoped 
that  her  husband  would  escape  many  of  the  baneful 
influences  of  the  society  he  had  been  accustomed  to 
move  in.  The  hope  was  vain.  The  drinl^iig  usages 
of  pioneer  life,  though  less  refined,  were  none  the 
less  general  and  fatal.  And  besides,  step  by  step, 
Watt  had  lost  much  of  his  chivalric  pride  of  charac- 
ter—  his  manhood  was  degraded.  The  crater  kin- 
dled within  him,  was  burning  out  every  sentiment 
of  his  better  nature.  He  became  familiar  with  coarse- 
ness and  vice,  gambled  without  hesitation,  and  was 
often  in  a  state  of  shameful  intoxication.  His  busi- 
ness was  neglected  and  his  temper  soured  ;  he  spent 
most  of  his  evenings  at  the  tavern,  and  when  at  home 
was  sullen  and  harsh,  or  broadly  abusive. 

Darkly  the  days  dawned  at  the  neglected  hearth, 
and  darker  still  their  evenings.  The  unkind  word 
and  constant  neglect,  were  wringing  to  agony  the 
heart's  every  fibre,  and  unseen  tears,  scalding  with 
sorrow,  were  wearing  deep  channels  in  the  pale  and 


216  MINNIE   HEKMON. 

wasting  cheek.  The  pure  smile  and  winning  way  of 
the  babe,  or  the  witching  laughter  and  prattle  of  the 
older  children,  had  no  power  to  win  a  parent  from 
the  embrace  of  the  tempter.  Home,  and  its  circle, 
was  deserted  for  the  bar-room ;  the  wife  and  her  treas- 
ures, for  the  cup  and  the  boon  companion.  The  trail 
of  all  his  ruin  was  broadly  slimed  <from  the  threshold 
to  the  hearth,  and  there  "Want  and  Despair  sat  amid 
the  domestic  wreck.  !S"o  resource  of  the  mother 
could  long  keep  her  loved  ones  from  going  forth  in 
rags.  The  appeal  for  bread,  made  in  the  silvery  voice 
of  trusty  childhood,  was  answered  with  a  curse,  and 
from  the  barren  board,  the  recreant  husband  and  pa- 
rent went/orth  to  steep  his  soul  in  deeper  potations. 
The  child  that  once  crawled  upon  the  knee  and  threw 
her  light  arms  over  the  shoulders,  and  with  stainless 
lip  kissed  the  bearded  cheek,  now  shrunk  away  and 
hushed  its  half-sad  mouth  at  the  dreaded  approach. 

—  And  thus  an  idolized  parent's  returning  tread 
was  tha  herald  of  sorrow  and  tears,  and  his  darkening 
form  a  shadow  upon  every  joy  which,  like  pale  flow- 
ers, still  sprung  up  on  the  wintry  waste. 

From  carelessness  when  drunk,  the  dwelling  was 
fired,  and  the  family  driven  from  their  beds  into  the 
enow  of  a  winter's  night,  one  of  the  older  girls  leap- 
ing from  the  chamber  window  just  as  the  flaming 
roof  fell  in.  After  this  fresh  calamity,  the  family  re- 
moved to  Cherry  Yalley,  and  still  again  to 

county. 

In  the  haggard  and  sottish  drunkard,  none  would 


TITE   "WATT   FAMILY.  217 

have  recognized  James  Watt.  He  was  ill-tempered 
and  abusive  in  the  extreme  ;  quarrelsome,  reckless 
and  profane,  and  outraged  nearly  all  the  proprieties 
of  life.  At  times,  he  would  earn  money  fast  but  to 
spend  it  in  one  prolonged  debauch.  Not  a  penny 
ever  went  for  the  support  of  his  family. 

Mrs.  Watt  and  her  children  existed  from  day  to  day, 
ao  one  knew  how^  The  children  and  herself  were  in 
rags.  Silently  and  in  secret,  for  tears  provoked  the 
harsh  word  or  blow,  she  wept  away  her  life.  With 
a  languid  step  and  a  vacant  stare,  she  moved  about, 
hoping  for  the  long  rest  of  death,  yet  dreading  to 
leave  those  who  now  alone  bound  her  to  earth.  Late 
at  night  she  toiled,  and  the  morning  found  her  with- 
out rest.  With  a  compressed  lip,  she  bore  the  sharp 
gnawings  of  hunger,  that  her  babes  might  not  want 
for  bread,  and  still  the  moan  of  the  famished  one 
would  often  pierce  the  lacerated  heart  like  heated 
barbs.  She  was  yoked  to  a  living  corpse,  and  as  she 
listened  to  the  snoring  of  the  drunkard  in  his  slum- 
bers and  smelled  the  stench  of  the  consuming  fires, 
she  could  look  down  into  a  once  manly  heart,  now  a 
seething  crater,  where  all  her  earlier  and  brighter 
hopes  lay  smouldering  in  charred  and  blackened  ruins. 
The  lips  it  had  been  her  pride  to  greet  were  flaming 
with  rum  and  the  wanton's  loathsome  kiss.  As  she 
felt  new  life  throbbing  in  her  bosom,  she  locked  her 
wasted  fingers  together  and  prayed  to  die. 

—  Ill-fated  Bertha !  there  was  dark  ending  of  life'? 
summer  day  after  ao  light  a  morning  ! 


218  MINNIE   HEEMON. 

Summer  was  fading  into  autumn,  and  the  leaves 
were  already  falling.  Within  a  miserable  tenement, 
Bertha  "Watt  was  fading  away.  Few  ever  entered 
the  pauper  dwelling,  and  with  her  children  to  watch 
her,  she  journeyed  downward  to  the  dark  valley.  A 
few  were  charitable,  and  the  family  were  saved  from 
actual  starvation.  Desolate  and  cheerless  the  room 
and  the  couch  of  the  dying ;  more  desolate  still  the 
stricken  heart,  as  she  looked  around  upon  a  group  of 
ten,  who  were  doubly  bound  to  her  by  the  ties  of 
years  of  common  suffering.  Yet,  blessed  God  of  the 
poor !  Hope  lit  her  torch  at  the  waning  flame  of 
life,  and  pointed  sweetly  away,  over  the  misty  realm 
of  sod  and  slab,  to  one  of  happiness  and  rest. 

As  the  sharp  wail  of  her  tears  broke  upon  the 
night's  stillness,  Bertha  "Watt  lay  silent  in  death. 
The  crushed  and  broken  spirit  of  the  meek  and  in- 
jured sufferer  was  free  from  its  wasted  temple,  and 
far  out  upon  a  shoreless  sea ! 

They  said  she  died  of  consumption.  Aye,  con- 
sumption of  the  heart — its  hopes,  like  drops  of  blood 
dripping  away,  through  the  long  night  hours  of  ray- 
less  years.  Hidden  away,  and  unseen  by  the  public 
eye,  are  such  triumphs  of  the  scourge  as  these,  and 
thickly  written  in  the  history  of  its  progress,  as  are 
the  leaves  upon  the  forest  in  summer  time. 

—  And  there  is  a  place  where  the  weary  and  the 
heavy-laden  shall  find  rest ! 

A  wide  world  for  the  worse  than  orphans !  Rum 
had  not  yet  sufficiently  ravaged  their  home.  From 


THE   WATT   FAMILf.  219 

the  grave  of  the  wife  and  mother,  James  "Watt  went 
back  to  the  bar-room,  more  abandoned  and  shameless 
than  ever.  Rum  had  burned  out  the  image  of  her 
who  stood  with  him  at  the  altar,  a  trusting  and  a  hap- 
py young  bride.  He  never  gave  his  family  a  thought. 
Penniless,  fireless,  and  breadless,  gathered  the  strick- 
en group  where  a  home  had  been.  "While  the  earth, 
was  still  fresh  upon  the  mother's  grave,  the  rumsell- 
ers  came  with  their  executions,  and  stripped,  under 
a  stringent  law,  the  very  bedding  which  that  mother, 
in  all  their  misfortunes,  had  retained,  as  the  gift  of  her 
girlhood's  home.  But  another  blow  came.  The  im- 
bruted  father  sold  the  cow,  and  with  the  proceeds, 
left  the  village  with  a  boon  companion,  and  squan- 
dered it  in  dissipation. 

Two  older  sisters  fought  hard  to  keep  the  family 
circle  unbroken.  The  father  returned  to  curse  them. 
They  whom  he  once  loved,  and  who  loved  him  with 
all  the  holy  intensity  of  child-love  in  return,  learned 
to  hate  him,  and  as  he  went  from  the  dwelling,  prayed 
in  hearts  fearfully  old  in  grief,  that  he  never  might 
return.  And  in  a  land  of  Christians,  James  Watt 
had  that  dealt  out  to  him  for  his  money  which  de- 
monized  his  manhood,  and  made  him  desert  and  hate 
his  own  flesh  and  blood,  and  fostered  hatred  in  re- 
turn !  Slowly  the  sacred  ties  which  bound  parent  and 
child  were  withered  and  broken,  under  the  scorching 
fires  of  the  bowl. 

Money  exhausted,  the  father  returned.  The  elder 
daughters  toiled  in  a  factory,  its  bell  starting  them 


220  MINNIE   HERMOST. 

from  feverish  slumbers,  and  its  walls  a  prison  to  their 
drooping  frames.  Every  Saturday  night,  the  father 
would  demand  the  wages  of  heart  and  brain-aching 
toil,  and  spend  the  money  for  rum  with  his  compan- 
ions on  the  Sabbath.  And  many  a  day  did  the  chil- 
dren gather  around  the  rickety  table,  with  bran  bread 
its  only  dainty,  a  jug  of  rum  upon  the  shelf,  and  a 
drunken  father  snoring  upon  the  floor. 

—  The  children,  who  had  committed  no  crime,  went 
hungry  and  ragged,  that  the  licensed  robber  might 
have  his  plenty ! 

Darker  yet  gloomed  the  sky  over  the  "Watt  family. 
As  per  poor  laws  of  that  day,  the  younger  children 
were  struck  off  at  auction,  and  put  out  to  be  kept  by 
the  lowest  bidder,  while  arrangements  were  made  to 
seize  the  others,  and  from  town  to  town  drive  them 
back  to  the  county  they  came  from.  One  child-sis- 
ter, of  four  years  —  a  sweet  child  in  rags,  whose  tiny 
hands  never  wronged  a  being  on  earth,  and  who  never 
knew  why  .she  was  a  pauper  —  found  cold-hearted 
keepers,  and  in  the  winter  time,  died  in  the  entryway 
upon  rags  for  bedding,  and  covered  with  vermin,  no 
mother's  hand  leading  her  into  the  shadowy  land,  or 
Bister's  kiss  warming  upon  the  chilly  lip.  The  blue 
eye,  which  had  known  little  but  tears,  turned  upward 
to  a  Christ  kinder  than  men,  and  glittered  with  frost 
in  the  clear  morning  sun. 

The  grave  lies  between  the  two  worlds.  The  win- 
ter sod  shut  the  infant  victim  beyond  the  reach  of  the 
scourge,  and  she  wept  for  bread  no  more. 


CHAPTER    XX. 

"  MOEAL   SUASION." 

MUCH  has  been  said  and  written,  in  the  course  of 
the  temperance  reform,  about  the  power  of  moral  sua- 
sion. There  is  a  power  in  its  tear  and  its  tone. 
"With  kind  words  it  appeals  to  the  better  nature  and 
essays  to  win  back  the  fallen.  With  a  gentle  voice 
and  look  it  knocks  at  the  heart  of  the  erring  and  points 
out  a  better  way.  It  meets  the  prodigal  with  a  tear 
and  says,  "  go  and  sin  no  more."  In  a  thousand  forms 
it  finds  the  human  heart  in  its  wanderings,  and  with 
a  tear  for  its  follies,  points  with  a  smile  of  hope  and 
forgiveness  back  to  honor  and  truth.  The  proud 
spirit  which  would  fling  back  with  scorn  the  hatred 
of  a  world,  would  melt  and  sway  like  a  summer  leaf 
at  the  gentle  whispering  of  words  of  kindness. 

Moral  suasion  has  accomplished  much  in  winning 
men  from  their  cups  —  more  than  the  penal  enact- 
ments which  drag  the  drunkard  from  a  legalized  hell, 
to  incarceration  or  fine.  It  has  saved  many  from  the 
fang  which  glitters  in  the  bubbles  on  the  breaker's 
brim.  Even  from  the  midst  of  deepest  ruin,  some 
word  or  kindly  deed  has  brought  back  the  erring  to 
virtue  and  duty.  It  is  doing  much  yet,  and  will  never 
fail  to  do  much  while  there  are  hearts  to  love  the 
drunkard  and  weep  over  his  ruin. 


222  MINNIE   HERMON. 

There  are  some  of  our  friends  who  avow  their  readi- 
ness to  rely  solely  upon  tfie  power  of  moral  suasion 
for  the  removal  of  intemperance.  It  seems  to  us  a 
strange  infatuation.  Prayers,  and  tears,  and  appeal- 
ing words,  against  an  evil  impregnable  in  its  citadels 
of  legislation,  and  backed  by  the  whole  force  of  the 
government !  Would  the  same  friends  content  them 
selves  with  appealing  to  the  incendiary  and  the  mur- 
derer to  spare  their  homes  and  their  lives,  and  the 
torch  and  the  knife  at  the  same  time  commissioned  to 
do  the  infernal  work,  and  the  hand  that  wielded  them 
protected  by  law?  "What  would  the  cold-blooded 
butcher  care  for  the  pleading  of  innocence  or  weak- 
ness, when  licensed,  for  a  price,  to  drench  the  very 
hearth  in  warm  blood  ?  And  would  the  incendiary, 
empowered  to  burn,  and  sustained  by  the  so  called 
respectable,  in  the  light  of  the  kindling  flame,  re- 
nounce the  desolating  business  which  he  had  pur- 
chased of  government  the  right  to  engage  in  ? 

God  never  designed  that  a  wicked  world  should  be 
governed  by  moral  suasion.  He  himself  has  put  on 
record  penal  enactments  against  sin — against  vice  and 
crirre.  Until  human  nature  is  utterly  changed,  mor- 
al suasion,  as  a  sole-restraining  power,  will  be  impo- 
tent. All  the  blessed  influences  of  the  Gospel,  the 
influence  of  home,  friends,  virtuous  teachings,  and 
the  hopes  of  happiness  and  Heaven,  as  a  motive  pow- 
er, will  not  restrain  the  vicious.  All  men  are  not 
susceptible  of  moral  influences.  If  they  were,  the 
dust  of  oblivion  might  gather  upon  our  statutes,  and 


"  MOEAL    SUASION."  223 

not  a  crime  should  mar  the  harmony  of  the  universal 
brotherhood  of  man. 

Those  who  deal  in  rum,  are  certainly  the  last  class 
which  should  ever  utter  a  word  about  moral  suasion, 
and  claim  that  the  temperance  reform  should  be  car- 
ried forward  upon  that  basis  alone.  We  could  smile 
at  the  coolness  of  the  idea  but  for  its  insulting  wick- 
edness. It  comes  with  a  bad  grace  in  the  teeth  of 
facts,  upon  a  record  of  more  than  twenty-five  years' 
duration.  Here  as  elsewhere,  moral  suasion  has  had 
its  effect,  and  men,  regardful  of  its  influences,  have 
yielded  to  the  light  of  truth  and  abandoned  a  wicked- 
ness. And  in  the  high  noon  of  our  reform,  those  who 
still  persist,  against  reason,  right  and  revelation,  in 
the  business,  ask  the  people  to  follow  their  direction 
in  the  matter,  and  continue  a  course  which  up  to  this 
day  they  have  utterly  disregarded ! 

With  legislation  against  it,  it  requires  the  whole 
power  of  the  temperance  reform  to  keep  its  giant  an- 
tagonist at  bay,  while  in  security  it  revels  upon  all 
which  comes  within  its  clutch.  Moral  suasion  knows 
not  a  phase  which  it  has  not  assumed  in  this  great 
work.  From  broken  altars  where  every  domestic  tie 
lay  shivered,  prayers  have  gone  up  where  there  was 
no  hope  but  of  Heaven.  Gather  them  from  the  an- 
gels' record,  and  a  tempest  of  prayers  would  swell  its 
note  of  accusing  thunder.  An  ocean  of  tears  has 
dripped  its  bitter  way  over  cheeks  which  bloom  not 
again.  Days  and  years  have  passed  by,  until  ages  of 
sorrow  have  accumulated  in  judgment.  Wherever 


224:  MINNIE   HEKMON. 

the  victims  of  the  wrong  have  loved,  and  suffered, 
and  died  —  at  home,  in  the  alms-house,  dungeon,  or 
on  the  scaffold,  —  the  sob,  the  sorrow,  and  the  wail, 
have  appealed  to  the  authors  of  all  the  woe,  vice  and 
crime.  Mutely,  but  ah  !  how  eloquently,  the  cower- 
ing and  ragged  drunkard's  child,  and  the  pale-faced 
wife  and  mother,  have  presented  to  the  dealer  his 
cruel  wickedness  and  their  bitter  wrongs  ! 

The  rumseller  is  not  ignorant  or  deaf.  He  knows 
the  sweep  of  the  engine  in  his  hands.  He  sees  its 
effects,  and  while  his  own  neighbors,  and  kindred 
even,  are  demonized  and  imbruted  by  the  drug  from 
his  hands,  he  sends  them  home  to  wound  the  innocent 
and  the  helpless.  Every  coin  he  drops  into  his  draw- 
er, is  the  price  of  the  hunger,  nakedness  and  degrada- 
tion of  those  who  never  wronged  him  or  his.  He 
knows  the  enslaved  appetite  cannot  turn  away,  and 
he  feeds  it  to  the  death.  He  deliberately  manufac- 
tures a  kind  husband  and  father  into  a  devil,  and  a 
happy  home  into  a  hell,  where  the  victim  can  torment 
his  own  wife  and  children  !  Entrenched  with  legis- 
lation and  leagued  with  unscrupulous  demagogues, 
they  have  continued  this  fearful  work  against  all  the 
efforts  of  the  tongue  and  pen.  Their  victims  have 
Buffered,  and  wept,  and  died,  in  vain.  Human  and 
divine  laws  have  alike  been  trampled  upon  ;  and  to- 
day, while  preaching  moral  suasion,  they  are  band- 
ing to  sustain  the  system  of  cruelty  and  wrong  at 
every  hazard. 

Moral  suasion  !     Let  the  stricken  mother  go  pray 


"  MOKAL   SUASION."  225 

upon  the  slippery  deck  of  the  pirate  when  blood  leaps 
smoking  from  the  scuppers,  and  beg  the  life  of  her 
boy !  Send  childhood  with  a  tear  on  its  cheek,  into 
the  den  of  the  famished  tigress,  and  with  a  silvery- 
voice  beseech  the  life  of  a  parent,  writhing  in  her  re- 
morseless fangs ! 

—  For  the  universe  of  God,  its  wealth  and  its  hon- 
ors, we  would  not,  in  the  light  of  this  day,  have  the 
guilt  of  rumselling  rest  heavy  on  our  soul. 

One  more  visit  to  the  miserable  tenement  of  Watt. 
All  that  the  law  spared  has,  been  carried  off  by  Watt 
and  pawned  at  the  tavern.  The  Bible  of  the  dead 
wife,  her  only  legacy  to  her  children,  has  been  stolen 
from  the  place  where  young  Bertha  "Watt  hid  it,  as  a 
priceless  treasure,  and  sacred  with  the  heart-drops 
\vhieh  had  fallen  upon  the  worn  pages,  and  sold  for 
ruin. 

Little  Bernard  Watt  lay  sick  unto  death.  With 
many  a  bitter  curse,  the  father  had  turned  from  the 
door,  as  Bertha  plead  that  her  sick  brother  might  have 
the  doctor  called,  and  left  for  the  tavern. 

And  all  within  was  hushed  and  still  —  every  foot- 
fall as  light  as  the  falling  leaf,  for  fear  of  disturb- 
ing the  sick  one.  With  hot  tears  upon  her  cheek, 
Bertha  leaned  upon  the  scanty  couch,  the  tiny  and 
feverish  hand  clasped  convulsively  within  her  own, 
as  if  to  hold  the  boy-brother  to  earth.  Though  pale 
and  fading,  the  features  were  classically  beautiful ; 
but  a  clammy  sweat  had  gathered  upon  the  white 
brow,  rich  with  the  last  kisses  of  a  dying  mother. 


226  MINNIE   HERMON. 

The  chubby  cheek  had  grown  thin  and  touchingly 
pale  ;  the  eye  had  lost  its  laughter,  and  looked  lan- 
guidly upon  the  group  around  him.  The  white  teeth 
appeared  through  the  half-closed  lips,  and  the  rich 
golden  hair  lay  back  upon  the  coarse  blanket  pillow. 
On  the  fourth  day,  as  -the  sun  was  going  down  in  the 
west,  the  child  was  passing  away. 

Through  the  broken  window,  a  broad  beam  of  sun- 
shine, like  a  ray  from  bliss,  entered  and  trembled  for 
a  moment  upon  the  hair,  and  then  burst  like  a  flood 
upon  the  pale  features  of  the  child.  He  turned  his 
face  to  the  sun,  and  a  smile,  sweeter  than  the  sunlight, 
came  over  the  wasted  and  bloodless  lips.  Upon  that 
golden  pathway  the  little  one  was  smiling  back  upon 
kindred  angels  in  Heaven  ! 

"  Bertha,  do  they  always  have  sunshine  in  Heaven  ? 
—  and  will  my  little  flower  grow  there,  and  the  birds 
sing  ?  —  and  will  the  angels  you  told  me  about  last 
night  be  good  and  love  me  ? " 

"  Mother  is  there,  —  she  will  love  you,"  replied  the 
choking  Bertha. 

"  How  I  want  to  die !  You  say  I  won't  hunger 
there,  Bertha,  and  I  '11  have  clothes  so  bright,  and  al- 
ways feel  happy.  I  won't  cry  there,  Bertha,  will  I  ?  " 

Bertha  could  not  answer  from  her  swelling  heart, 
but  the  tears  wound  their  way  down  her  cheeks,  and 
fell  like  rain-drops  upon  the  glistening  locks  of  Ber- 
nard. 

"  Bertha ! "  —  and  the  boy  looked  wildly  out  into 
the  room,  and  shut  his  sharp  thin  fingers  tightly  upon 


AMORAL   SUASION."  227 

her  arm,  and  in  a  whisper  continued  —  "  Father  won't 
be  there  to  whip  us  'cause  we  can't  help  crying,  will 
he  ?  Oh,  I  hope  Mr.  Hermon  won't  go  there,  to  sell 
any  rum.  The  good  God  don't  sell  rum,  does  he? 
Why  can't  you  die,  too,  Bertha,  and  go  when  the  an- 
gels come  after  me  ? "  Sobs  only  answered  the  faint 
prattle  of  the  innocent. 

"  Bertha,  give  me  some  more  of  that  toast.  When  I 
get  to  Heaven  I  '11  tell  ma  how  good  Minnie  Hermon 
was  to  us."  Bertha  looked,  and  the  toast  was  gone, 
and  with  it  the  loaf  of  bread  and  the  wine  which 
Minnie  Hermon  had  brought  that  morning,  as  she 
learned  of  their  sickness  and  destitution.  The  father 
had  robbed  the  dying,  and  sold  the  loaf  for  two  drams. 
There  was  not  a  morsel  of  food  for  the  boy,  and  Ber- 
tha's heart  almost  broke  as  she  thought  how  cruel  that 
Bernard  should  die  hungry. 

"Bertha  —  I'm  going  to  sleep  —  kiss  me.  Good 
night !  Bright !  —  ma,  Bernard  com  —  ing  !  " 

The  setting  sunbeams  lingered  upon  the  palid  face 
of  the  sinless  sleeper,  as  the  whispers  fell  with  crush- 
ing weight  into  the  hearts  of  the  little  band.  The 
pauper  children  loved  each  other. 

The  night  of  death  had  gathered  around  the  little 
brother.  The  pilgrim  of  four  summers  had  turned 
aside  from  a  cloudy  pathway,  and  passed  directly  to 
Heaven.  lie  who  loved  such,  led  the  gentle  spirit 
through  the  shadows  of  the  dark  valley. 

Even  in  that  curtainless,  carpetless  room,  there 
were  gentle  footsteps  in  the  depths  of  the  night. 


228  MINNIE   IIEKMOST. 

where  lay  the  unmatched  and  unshrouded  dead. 
Convulsive  sobbing,  and  many  a  flood  of  tears,  and 
close  and  warm  were  the  kisses  which  clustered  upon 
the  chill  and  unanswering  lips  of  all  that  remained  of 
Bernard  Watt. 

•  •••••••* 

Early  one  morning  Hermon  met  Minnie  upon  the 
hall  steps,  with  her  work  basket  in  hand  and  hood  on. 
He  had,  by  dissipation,  become  utterly  insensible  to 
shame,  and  at  times  ill-tempered  towards  all.  As  he 
became  degraded  by  his  own  habits  and  avocation, 
and  blackened  with  guilt,  he  was  bitter  and  revenge- 
ful. The  consuming  wreck  of  his  nobler  nature  kin- 
dled into  intenser  flame  all  that  was  mean  and  base. 
He  had  just  received  one  of  the  stinging  shots  of 
Doctor  Howard,  in  relation  to  his  treatment  of  the 
Watt  family,  and  was  much  exasperated. 

"  Who  now  have  you  taken  to  support  I "  he  angri- 
ly demanded  of  Minnie. 

"  No  one,  father." 

"  But  where  are  you  going  ? " 

"  To  Watt's." 

UD n  the  Watts!  I've  heard  enough  about 

the  paupers,"  he  retorted,  snatching  the  basket  from 
her  hand,  the  contents  falling  upon  the  steps. 

"  What  now !  —  clothing,  too,  eh  ?  A  fine  pass,  if 
I've  got  to  clothe  and  feed  all  the  paupers  in  the 
country." 

"  Clothing  for  the  dead,  father  ;  this  is  a  shroud  for 
little  Bernard  Watt.  Jle  '*  dead  !  " 


"MOKAL  SUASION."  229 

"Pity  they  wan't  all  dead!"  muttered  the  thor- 
oughly bruta1  dealer,  as  he  turned  away. 

Unseen  by  Minnie,  Bertha  "Watt  had  entered  the 
"  Home "  from  the  other  street,  and  met  Hermon  as 
he  left  his  daugh?er  in  the  hall.  Watt  had  taken  a 
ham  which  Doctor  Howard  had  sent  to  the  children, 
and  upon  the  pawn-money  was  deadly  drunk  in  the 
bar-room.  Boiled  turnips  and  salt,  without  bread  — 
without  anything  else  — had  constituted  their  break- 
fast. From  the  table,  Bertha,  with  but  a  thin  hand- 
kerchief upon  her  head,  her  heart  running  over  with 
injuries  inflicted,  started  for  the  "  Home." 

As  Hermon  entered  his  bar-room,  he  started  at  the 
thread-bare  and  shivering  apparition  before  him. 
Bertha  caught  him  by  the  hand,  and  poured  into  his 
ear  a  tale  which  a  damned  one  would  dread  to  hear 
—  a  tale  of  grief,  hunger,  cold,  neglect  and  abuse. 
She  knelt  before  the  man  and  wet  his  hand,  in  spite 
of  himself,  with  scalding  tears,  as  she  besought  him 
for  her  mother's  Bible,  and  that  he  would  not  sell  her 
father  rum.  "With  an  eloquence  which  is  only  wo- 
man's under  similar  circumstances,  she  told  the  his- 
tory of  cruelty  in  a  drunkard's  home. 

"  Don't  come  here  to  blubber,  bold  Miss..  This  is 
no  place  for  woman.  Better  tend  to  your  own 
business,  and  go  to  work  instead  of  begging  round  the 
neighborhood.  Tour  father  can  take  care  of  himself. 
Better  leave,  I  say,"  and  Hermon  put  his  hand  rude- 
ly upon  the  shoulder  of  the  girl,  and  crowded  her 
towards  the  door 


230  MINmE   HEEMON. 

"Tliat's  (liic)  —  right,  Miz-zer  Hermoii,  turn  the 
(hie)  —  hussy  out,  by !  "  hiccoughed  the  shame- 
less father,  as  he  managed  to  rise  from  his  chair,  and 
thrust  his  hands  into  his  torn  pockets. 

As  Bertha  stepped  over  the  threshold  upon  the 
steps,  slippery  with  frost,  Hermon  passionately  slam- 
med the  door  together.  Striking  her  feet  as  she  lin- 
gered, they  were  knocked  from  under  her,  and  she 
fell  quickly  and  heavily  at  full  length  upon  the  stones, 
shivered  as  the  limbs  extended,  and  lay  still,  the  blood 
running  freely  from  the  nose  and  open  mouth  upon 
the  step. 

"  God  Almighty's  curse  upon  ye,  murderer  of  the 
innocent,  and  robber  of  men!  The  gibbet  would 
scorn  such  carrion,  and  hell  vomit  you  from  its  bow- 
els, John  Hermon !  "  literally  howled  Crazy  Alf  be- 
tween his  fiercely  set  teeth,  as  he  bounded  over  the 
prostrate  body,  and  planted  a  crushing  blow  under 
the  ear  of  the  now  sobered  landlord,  which  would 
have  felled  a  trio  of  such  men.  "  Strike  a  woman, 
you  cowardly  savage ! "  he  hissed,  and  ground  his 
heel  into  the  face  of  the  prostrate  wretch. 

Alf  had  seen  her  fall,  and  supposing  that  Hermon 
had  struck  her,  his  half-maniac  nature  boiled  at  the 
act. 

"  Murderers  not  all  hung  yet !  "  he  muttered,  as  ho 
glanced  upon  the  landlord ;  then  taking  Bertha  iu 
his  arms,  he  carried  her  to  Doctor  Howard's. 

Minnie  made  another  shroud,  and  another  grave 
dug  in  potter's  field.  Bertha  was  with  little  Ber- 


"MORAL  SUASION."  231 

nard  at  rest.  The  door  of  Heaven  was  not  shut 
against  them,  or  the  prayer  answered  with  a  curse. 

The  Watt  family  were  scattered.  Their  graves  are 
wide  apart  in  this  land  to-day.  Three  years  ago,  in 

county,  James  Watt  died  a  pauper  by  the 

roadside,  and  at  the  public  expense  was  buried  in 
potter's  field. 

—  The  Pilgrim  blood  of  the  Watt  family,  freighted 
with  bitter  memories,  beats  in  living  hearts,  who  with 
prayers  of  hope  and  faith  await  the  day  when  a  right- 
eous enactment  shall  crush  the  evil  which  scourged 

o 

them,  and  avenge  their  wrongs. 


CHAPTEK   XXI. 

A    BEACON    ON    THE    WASTE. 

WE  will  not —  could  not,  detail  the  fearful  history 
of  the  ravages  of  rum  in  Oakvale.  The  serpent  had 
slimed  every  threshold,  and  lay  coiled  upon  nearly 
every  hearth.  Pauperism,  Yice  and  Crime  stalked 
hand  in  hand,  and  the  almshouse  and  jail  swarmed 
tvith  human  wrecks.  Fortunes,  rank  and  standing  had 
drifted  into  these  receptacles,  yet  the  storm  swept  on, 
with  not  a  star  of  hope  in  the  sky  —  all  dark,  cheer- 
less, desolating. 

The  wildest  dreams  of  fiction  would  prove  tame  in 
comparison.  Tragedies  more  fearfully  startling  than 
Avon's  bard  ever  traced,  had  often  occurred.  Scenes 
which  would  mock  to  scorn  the  artist's  pencil,  were 
of  daily  occurrence.  The  home  where  a  heart  deso- 
lated clings  to  and  weeps  over  the  wrecks  of  its  youth- 
idol  ;  the  child-group  shivering  in  the  cold,  or  cling- 
ing to  a  mother  and  asking  for  bread  ;  the  orphan 
turned  out  into  the  world  with  no  friend  but  God  ; 
Youth  wrecked  and  palsied  with  premature  age ;  Man- 
hood reeling  amid  the  ruins  of  moral  and  intellectual 
beauty,  where  a  thousand  hopes  are  buried  ;  Genius 
crumbling  in  ruins  and  driveling  in  idiocy ;  the  vir- 
tuous and  high-minded  turning  away  from  truth  and 
honor,  and  plunging  into  every  vice  ;  the  parent  and 


A   BEACON   ON   THE   WASTE.  233 

citizen  wandering  away  from  a  home-heaven  through 
a  dark  pilgrimage  to  a  dishonored  grave  ;  hearthside 
altars  cast  down,  and  the  home  transformed  into  a 
hell ;  Childhood  and  Innocence  thrust  out  from  the 
love-light  of  a  mother's  eye,  to  wallow  in  all  that's 
low  and  vile ;  Poverty  and  "Want  looking  with  pinched 
and  piteous  gaze  upon  the  scanty  tribute  of  Charity, 
as  Hunger  drove  them  out  in  their  rags  ;  foul  and  fes- 
tering Yice,  with  bloated  and  sickly  features,  leering 
and  driveling  in  leprous  bestiality ;  Madness,  with 
fiery  eye  and  haggard  mien,  weeping,  and  wailing, 
and  cursing  in  the  rayless  night  of  intellectual  chaos ; 
Murder  with  its  infernal  ha!  ha!  .'as  with  dripping 
blade,  and  smoking  in  hot  blood,  stalked  forth  from 
butchery  ;  —  these  and  ten  thousand  other  combina- 
tions of  warp  and  woof  with  rum  and  skill,  would 
weave  a  fibre  of  terrific  intensity  and  power.  The 
hovel,  the  dramshop,  the  subterranean  den,  and  the 
mansion  of  fashion  and  wealth,  furnished  their  chap- 
ters of  revolting  history.  The  weird  creations  of 
history  would  be  faint  copies  of  what  transpired 
in  Oakvale.  Religion  mourned  over  the  broad  in- 
roads upon  her  heritage,  for  from  the  desk  and  the 
bosom  of  the  church  of  Christ,  souls  were  dragged 
away.  Patriotism  turned  aghast  at  the  sweeping  de- 
struction of  the  staunch  citizen  and  the  most  gifted 
statesman.  Humanity  wept  over  the  desolations. 
Still,  men  lay  down  and  rotted  while  they  died  ;  for 
no  brazen  serpent  had  been  lifted.  There  was  one 

dead  in  every  house,  and  still  the  Angel  of  the  Plague 
10 


234:  MINNIE   HEKMON. 

commissioned  by  human  power,  continued  to  feast 
upon  death  in  its  aceldamas  of  blood. 

A  few  of  the  more  striking  events  may  be  mention- 
ed in  passing.  Leonard  Bascomb,  a  young  man  of 
twenty,  carried  his  jug  into  the  woods.  A  brother, 
in  going  after  wood  at  night,  drove  the  sled  against 
him,  and  rolled  the  dead  body  out  of  the  snow  which 
had  covered  it,  the  jug  clenched  firmly  in  the  stiffened 
fingers.  The  corpse  was  carried  to  a  deserted  cabin, 
where  the  jury  of  inquest  drinked  from  the  dead  man's 
jug  before  any  testimony  was  taken ! 

Little  Willie  Warner  went  from  Hermon's  with  his 
father's  jug,  and  froze  by  the  wayside.  The  next 
morning  the  remains  of  the  Warner  family  were  found 
amid  the  smoking  timbers  of  the  burned  dwelling. 
By  the  headless  and  limbless  trunk  of  the  mother,  the 
white  bones  of  the  babe  glared  in  the  blackened  ruins. 
None  but  God  knew  whether  butchery  was  not  there 
hidden  in  the  ruins,  and  its  blood  licked  up  by  the 
flames. 

An  old  and  once  respectable  citizen  returned  home 
late  at  night,  and  in  his  rage  turned  his  wife  and 
babe  out  into  the  storm,  and  after  first  burying  the 
axe  in  the  head  of  one  of  the  sleeping  boys,  cast  the 
body  upon  the  fire.  The  older  boy  jumped  from  the 
window,  the  axe  severing  his  hand  as  he  sprang  to  the 
ground.  The  mother  was  found  dead,  nearly  naked, 
and  the  clothing  wrapped  around  her  child,  her  hair 
frozen  to  the  cheek  of  the  babe  with  tears  and  sleet. 

The  West  family,  mother  and  three  children,  were 


A  BEACON    ON   THE   WASTE.  235 

frozen  in  one  of  .the  severest  storms  of  the  season. 
The  husband  had  been  sent  to  purchase  medicine,  but 
drank,  then  gambled,  and  for  three  days  lay  at  the 
house  in  bestial  intoxication.  The  wife  was  found 
upon  her  knees,  her  hands  tightly  clasped,  and  a  tear- 
drop frozen  upon  the  icy  cheek ;  the  babe  before  her 
on  the  floor,  its  fingers  standing  out  from  each  other, 
and  the  two  older  children  locked  together  in  their 
crih,  as  if  to  keep  each  other  warm.  George  "West 
became  sober,  but  to  learn  the  extent  of  his  wicked- 
ness, and  to  live  on  helplessly  insane.  For  years  he  lin- 
gered in  the  asylum,  and  called  piteously  for  his  wife 
and  children. 

—  But  it  is  painful  to  linger  over  so  extended  and 
dark  a  record. 

About  this  time,  the  news  came  that  temperance 
societies  were  forming  in  the  eastern  part  of  the  State. 
It  was  received  with  a  laugh  of  scorn  by  some,  and 
astonishment  by  all.  As  the  object  became  known, 
and  the  pledge,  the  astonishment  was  greater  still. 
Pledged  to  abstain  from  even  the  moderate  use  of  al- 
coholic drinks !  It  was  the  very  essence  of  fanati- 
cism !  So  radical  an  inroad  upon  the  good  old  cus- 
toms of  the  times,  was  truly  startling — 'twas  outra- 
geous. What  was  the  world  coming  to !  What  could 
people  do  without  ardent  spirits  ?  They  could  not 
withstand  hard  work,  grief,  heat,  cold,  or  wet.  Men 
must  be  crazy  to  think  of  such  a  thing.  Temperance 
was  a  good  thing,  but  this  was  going  altogether  too 
far,  and  the  people  would  not  stand  it.  Some  were 


236  MINNIE  HEEMON. 

wiser  than  tlie  common  bar-room  rabble,  and  saw  in 
the  new  movement  only  a  scheme  of  priests  for  the 
union  of  church  and  state.  Good  citizens  were  im- 
peratively bound  to  frown  upon  the  mad  scheme  of 
designing  men. 

In  due  time  a  temperance  meeting  was  announced 
for  Oakvale.  The  churches  were  closed  against  the 
agent,  and  after  much  wrangling,  the  school-house 
was  selected  for  the  occasion. 

Such  a  commotion  in  Oakvale  I  The  rumsellers, 
old  Ilermon  conspicuous  among  them,  felt  outraged — 
indignant  at  so  disgraceful  a  proceeding.  They  were 
as  much  friends  of  temperance  as  anybody,  but  tliis 
priest-craft,  speculation,  and  union  of  church  and 
state  —  why,  such  men  ought  to  be  rode  out  of  town. 
Groups  discussed  the  momentous  question  every  night 
until  the  meeting,  and  the  tipplers  hiccoughed 
amen. 

The  afternoon  came,  nearly  every  drunkard's  wife, 
some  of  the  middle  class  of  women,  a  few  of  the  bet- 
ter citizens,  and  the  rumsellers  and  tipplers,  were  all 
that  attended.  Many  of  the  wealthier  class  did  not 
deem  the  matter  of  the  least  consequence,  and  paid 
no  attention  to  it.  None  of  the  clergymen  were  pres- 
ent. The  old  soaks  looked  knowingly,  and  winked  at 
one  another  with  mock  gravity.  The  dealers  sneered 
upon  the  whole  transaction,  and  felt  sure  of  looking 
down  the  hot-headed  affair.  Crazy  Alf  sat  with  his 
chin  in  his  palms,  as  usual,  and  behind  him,  old  Bar- 
ney Kits.  The  rumsellers  were  flanked  by  their 


A   BEACOX   ON   THE  WASTE.  237 

best  customers,  not  omitting  Counselor  Skillot,  of  pu- 
ritanic phiz. 

The  speaker  was  a  clergyman,  of  medium  height, 
slightly  gray,  benevolent  countenance,  and  great  good 
humor.  As  calm  as  a  summer's  morning,  he  arose, 
and  in  a  familiar  and  unassuming  manner,  introduced 
his  subject.  He  told  no  anecdotes,  —  made  no  start- 
ling appeals  ;  but  in  a  plain,  common-sense  manner, 
detailed  what  all  knew  to  be  facts.  He  dwelt  upon 
intemperance,  its  desolations  in  the  domestic  circle, 
its  annual  destruction  of  drunkards,  its  direct  agency 
in  producing  pauperism  and  crime,  and  in  increasing 
taxation,  and  showed  the  necessity  of  doing  something 
to  arrest  the  growing  evil.  All  classes  would  see  the 
necessity  of  such  a  step,  for  nearly  all  had  been  in- 
jured by  its  ravages.  The  pledge  was  proposed  as  the 
instrument  of  the  measure,  concentrating  and  har- 
monizing action,  and  bringing  the  friends  of  the  meas- 
ure upon  a  common  platform, where  their  influence 
would  be  more  efficient.  It  was  a  fraternal  bond.  It 
had  been  objected  that  men  who  took  it  would  sign 
away  their  liberties.  What  liberties  ?  The  liberty 
to  use  that  which  produced  individual  degradation 
and  family  ruin?  Which  destroyed  industry  and 
brought  beggary  in  its  train?  To  be  sure,  all  -who 
drink  do  not  die  drunkards.  But  from  drinkers 
comes  the  vast  array  of  drunkards  who  go  down  to 
premature  graves.  Here  is  a  safer  path.  None 
who  go  this  way,  are  in  danger.  None  who  go  the 
other,  are  safe.  It  was  not  expected  that  the  drunk- 


238  MINNIE   IIERMOX. 

ards  could  be  saved.  They  were  bound  by  an  appe- 
tite which  could  not  be  controlled.  Those  who  were 
not  yet  slaves,  ought  to  turn  away  from  the  tempta- 
tions of  the  cup.  Those  who  had  not  yet  formed  an 
appetite,  ought  certainly  to  give  their  names  and 
their  influence  to  save  the  youth  of  the  land  from 
destruction.  The  pledge  was  merely  an  expression 
of  sentiment  in  union  as  touching  one  object,  com- 
mitting those  who  signed  it  against  the  prevalent 
evils  of  intemperance.  Society  was  a  pledge — gov- 
ernment was  a  pledge  —  the  church  was  a  pledge. 
But  it  was  said  that  the  signing  of  a  pledge  was  an 
acknowledgment  of  weakness  —  of  danger  from  in- 
temperance. It  was  but  an  expression  of  opinion 
publicly  made,  a  solemn  giving  of  name  and  influ- 
ence to  a  certain  object.  It  was  said  that  men  did 
not  need  a  pledge.  The  pledge  makes  a  resolution 
stronger,  and  brings  those  of  similar  views  in  closer 
union.  The  Declaration  of  Independence  was  a 
pledge.  Those  who  staked  life,  fortune,  and  honor, 
in  signing  it,  did  not  deem  the  act  any  impeachment 
of  their  patriotism  or  of  their  strength  of  attachment 
to  the  principles  of  liberty.  It  was  the  great  anchor 
of  freedom,  thrown  out  in  the  storm,  and  held  indis- 
eolubly  together,  while  giving  them  strength  and  in- 
fluence to  contend  with  England.  The  speaker  con- 
cluded by  an  earnest  appeal  to  all  good  citizens  to 
come  forward  in  the  work,  and  presented  for  the  ac- 
tion of  the  meeting,  the  pledge,  constitution,  and  form 
of  organization.  After  a  few  moments'  silence,  Her- 


A  BEACON   ON   THE   WASTE.  239 

mon  moved  that  Counselor  Skillot  be  the  president 
of  the  new  temperance  society.  In  good  faith,  the 
speaker  put  the  question,  and  it  was  adopted  amid 
the  tittering  of  Hermon's  crew.  Doctor  Howard, 
from  the  first,  had  seen  the  truth  and  the  necessity  of 
the  very  measure  proposed,  and  eagerly  entered  into 
the  plan,  determined  to  follow  Hermon  with  some- 
thing more  than  child's  play,  and  immediately  nomi- 
nated Walter  Brayton  as  secretary.  The  motion  was 
carried,  putting  a  more  serious  aspect  upon  the  affair. 
Treating  the  matter  seriously  riled  Hermon,  and,  for 
the  purpose  of  insulting  Brayton,  Howard,  *and  the 
movement,  he  nominated  Crazy  Alf  as  a  committee  on 
resolutions.  A  few  tittered,  but  the  most  of  them 
anticipated  trouble  for  the  aggressor.  Alf  raised 
x>  his  full  height,  and  leveling  his  long  finger  at 
Hermon,  and  hissing  between  his  clenched  teeth, 
retorted : 

"And  Crazy  Alf  moves,  Mr.  Speaker,  that  Mr. 
Hermon  be  a  committee  to  look  after  drunkard's 
wives  and  children,  and  report  number  and  condition 
to  the  next  meeting !  " 

The  thrust  went  to  the  red,  and  Hermon  belched 
out : 

"  Turn  out  the  drunken  vagabond.  I  did  n't  come 
here  to  be  insulted." 

"  I  'm  not  in  your  bar-room,  sir,"  continued  Alf, 
walking  towards  Hermon  ;  "  nor  am  I  drunker  than 
the  man  I  bought  my  liquor  of." 

Hermon  drew  his  fist  menacingly,  but  quailed  as 


240  MINNIE   HEKMON. 

he  looted  into  the  glittering  eye  and  upon  the  huge 
proportions  of  his  antagonist. 

"  Stop  to  measure  when  you  strike  men,  eh ! "  con- 
tinued Alf,  as  he  surmised  the  thoughts  of  the  land- 
lord. "'Twan't  so  with  — ha,  ha!— with  Bertha 
Watt!" 

The  barb  went  to  the  feather,  and  was  sped  by  the 
hand  of  a  customer.  Skillott  wanted  to  know  if 
gentlemen  who  came  here  were  to  be  abused  by 
drunken  men,  and  Ilermon,  muttering  curses,  indig- 
nantly left  the  house.  His  friends  finally  left,  one 
after  another,  and  the  remaining  people  proceeded 
with  the  organization.  You  can  see,  quietly  remark- 
ed the  speaker,  that  Satan's  kingdom  is  divided 
against  itself  and  must  fall.  Whereupon  Deacon 
McGarr,  with  an  air  of  holy  horror,  also  left.  Skillott 
sat  uneasy, but  wished  to  see  the  end  of  the  meeting. 
He  declined  signing  the  pledge  when  it  came  round 
—  he  was  not  exactly  prepared  to  give  an  opinion 
upon  the  matter,  and  he  stroked  his  chin,  and  looked 
uncommonly  candid  and  wise.  The  pledge  had  pas- 
sed, wrhen  what  was  the  surprise  of  those  present  to 
see  Alf  step  boldly  forward  and  append  his  name  to 
the  pledge  —  "  Crazy  Alf." 

Skillott,  at  the  close  of  the  meeting,  went  immedi- 
ately to  the  tavern,  where  the  tipplers  and  some  of 
the  neighboring  magnates  were  busily  discussing  the 
temperance  meeting.  The  would-be  demagogue  here 
appeared  in  his  true  colors,  and  in  low  and  vulgar 
slansj  heaped  abuse  upon  the  movement.  Ilermoa 


A   BEACON    ON    THE   WASTE.          . 

declared  it  was  all  got  up  by  Howard  and  Bray  ton 
to  injure  him,  and  as  for  Alf,  he  should  never  have 
any  more  liquor  at  his  bar. 

"  Without  the  money,"  put  in  old  Barney. 

"  Shut  up,  you  old  devil !  "  snapped  Hermon,  "  or 
I  '11  start  your  drunken  carcass  forthwith."  Barney 
loved  .rum,  and  smothered  the  cutting  reply  that  came 
to  his  tongue's  end. 

"  Let  'em  come  here  to  get  me  to  sign  the  pledge," 
sneered  Hermon,  as  he  resumed  his  conversation  with 
Skillott.  "  But  what  '11  you  do  ? " 

"  O  !  let  me  alone  for  that.  I  '11  write  'em  a  letter 
declining  the  honor  —  ha,  ha  !  and  tell  'em  a  thing 
or  two.  I  only  wanted  to  see  which  way  the  cat 
jumped." 

That  was  a  capital  idea,  and  the  company  drank 
around,  Hermon  getting  in  better  humor  and  treating 
old  Barney. 

A  committee  had  been  appointed  at  the  meeting  to 
obtain  signatures  to  the  pledge.  Doctor  Howard  was 
one  of  the  committee  and  boldly  offered  the  paper  to 
all.  Hermon  and  the  brother  grog-sellers  were  al- 
ready friends  of  temperance  men,  but  these  fanatics 
were  making  altogether  too  much  fuss  —  going  too 
far.  Better  mind  their  own  business.  He  had  as 
good  a  right  to  sell  liquor  as  the  Doctor  had  to  sell 
medicine.  It  was  his  business  to  get  an  honest  living, 
and  tend  to  his  own  concerns.  If  his  neighbors  want- 
ed to  combine  against  him,  they  could  work  at  it. 
He  had  done  a  good  deal  for  the  place,  and  did  not 


242  MINNIE   HERMON. 

expect  to  be  abused  because  he  was  trying  to  accom- 
modate the  public  and  support  his  family. 

"  By  robbing  other  families  !  "  put  in  Alf,  who  had 
come  up  unobserved.  Hermon  wanted  no  more  en- 
counters with  that  personage,  and  turned  into  his 
bar. 

Drunkards  would  not  sign  the  pledge  —  it  was 
signing  away  their  liberties  —  glorious  privileges  their 
fathers  fought  for,  while  the  better  class,  so  called, 
looked  over  the  list  of  names  with  undisguised  con- 
tempt. They  would  not  be  found  in  such  company. 
It  was  well  enough  for  drunkards  and  women,  but 
too  vulgar  for  their  countenance.  Even  the  sister  of 
George  West  turned  up  her  nose  as  Minnie  Hermon 
asked  her  name.  Let  weak  minds  take  the  pledge, 
for  her  part  she  should  be  ashamed  if  she  thought 
there  was  any  need  of  her  signing  it.  Others  tittered 
as  they  saw  the  name  of  Alf,  and  of  some  poor  women 
in  the  neighborhood.  Howard  was  often  discouraged, 
but  believed  himself  right,  and  had  the  moral  cour- 
age to  stand  by  it. 

Many  were  the  sharp  and  witty  sayings  about  the 
"  cold-water "  scheme.  There  were  merry  times  in 
the  bar-rooms,  but  many  looked  thoughtful  as  some 
worthy  citizens  gave  their  names  to  the  move.  Alf 
stood  by  his  pledge,  and  became  a  theme  of  remark, 
especially  as  he  waged  an  incessant  and  bitter  war 
upon  the  rummies,  and  drew  off  some  two  or  three 
of  the  hardest  customers.  Many  a  plan  was  laid  to 
get  the  renegades  to  drink  again. 


A    BEACON    ON    THE    WASTE.  243 

—  Slowly  and  dimly  the  star  of  the  reform  went 
up.  From  the  pulpit  and  the  church  it  met  with  op- 
position. But  in  desolate  homes,  and  with  a  mmsel- 
ler's  daughter,  it  found  hearts  which  watched  its 
early  dawning  with  earnest  hope. 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

BREAKING   GROUND   AGAIN. 

THE  old  pledge  was  the  entering  wedge  of  the  tem- 
perance revolution.  It  was  an  untried  experiment — • 
the  commencement  of  a  great  work.  More  could  not 
have  been  achieved  at  the  time.  It  was  the  first  dis- 
tant and  rudely  constructed  parallel  before  the  over- 
shadowing fortress  of  the  monster  iniquity.  It  was 
but  the  faint  bugle  blast  upon  the  stillness  of  the 
slumbering  dead,  and  few  were  the  friends  who 
aroused  to  the  unequal  strife.  It.  but  heralded  in 
feeble  foreshadowings  the  coming  of  a  brighter  day. 
It  performed  its  work,  but  scarcely  left  a  mark  upon 
the  enemy.  'The  tenderly  feathered  missiles  fell  short 
of  the  mark,  harmless  and  inefficient,  in  effecting  the 
final  object. 

Deacon  McGarr  found  no  trouble  in  adhering  to 
the  pledge.  He  drank  with  the  drinkers,  yet  pre- 
served it  inviolate.  "While  the  ragged  bloat  at  his 
elbows  swallowed  his  raw  grog,  the  Deacon  sipped 
his  wine,  and  descanted  eloquently  upon  the  virtues 
and  duties  of  temperance.  He  faithfully  warned  them 
of  the  danger  of  such  habits — the  good  temperance 
man  !  Many  were  the  nights  lie  went  home  from  the 
tavern  heavy-laden  with  the  beverage,  and  then  ad- 


BREAKING  GROUND  AGAIN.  245 

ded  the  usual  mug  of  hard  cider  before  retiring  to  his 
deep  and  peculiar  slumbers. 

Early  in  the  winter,  McGarr  and  Barney  Kita 
started  for  home  one  night,  and  as  neighbors,  became 
more  than  usually  friendly  as  they  assisted  each  other 
arm  in  arm.  It  would  have  puzzled  an  observer  to 
have  determined  which  was  the  drunk  one.  Striking 
a  drift  in  the  path,  McGarr  stumbled,  and.  breaking 
loose,  the  two  parted,  the  Deacon  falling  on  his  face 
in  one  direction,  and  Barney  backwards  in  another, 
into  the  drift  to  the  arms,  in  a  sitting  position. 
McGarr  was  soon  upon  his  hands  and  knees,  grunting 
with  his  exertions  to  rise,  and  spitting  the  feathery 
snow  from  his  mouth.  He  partially  succeeded  in 
rising,  but  stepping  upon  Barney's  jug,  it  rolled  from 
under  him,  and  down  he  went,  this  time  in  a  sitting 
posture,  the  snow  gushing  up  like  spray  as  he  settled 
to  the  crust.  It  was  in  vain  to  try  to  raise  square- 
ly up. 

"  Barney,  my  f-friend ;  why  the  d-dogs  don't  you 
Qiic) — help  a — where  be  you,  B-arney?n 

"  Halloo,  Deacon !  you  th-there  ? " 

"No;  I'm  here." 

"  So  be  B-arney, 

•An'  that —  that  f-fast  anchor'd  hi  -hile, 
And  they  do  —  (hie)  .roll '  — 

You — you  there  yet,  Deacon  ?    Where's  my  ]-ug  ?  " 
"No,  I'm  here.    Your  —  your  jug,  Barney,  has— 
has  (hie)  throwed  me  down." 


246  MINNIE  HEKMON. 

"  Me  too,  many  a -a  time." 

"  Barney !  you  o-ought  not  to  (hie)  drink  so,  yon 
— hadn't.  Barney,  help  me  —  up.  This  cus —  this 
con-f-ounded  crick  in  my  (hie)  back,  h-olds  me 
down,  B-arney." 

"  The  creek  went  d-own  your  throat,  I  guess,"  re- 
plied the  ever  witty  Kits. 

"  My  friend,  I —  I'm  Deacon  Mc-McGarr.  You 
should  speak  properly  —  you  should." 

"  And  I  'm  Barny  Kits.  I  re-re — I  regret  to  see  a 
deacon  so-so  spiritually  inclined." 

"  I  am  lame,  Barney  ;  assist  me  if  you  p-lease," 
and  McGarr  wallowed  over  within  reach  of  Barney. 

"  Lift,  McGarr !  now  he-he— heave  !  " 

Barney  had  crawled  up  to  McGarr  and  caught 
awkwardly  into  the  skirts  of  his  coat,  and  was  lifting 
as  awkwardly,  managing  in  the  operation  to  pull  the 
coat  over  McGarr's  head  and  wrongside  out.  At  the 
same  time  McGarr  had,  fastened  one  hand  into  the 
Beat  of  his  pantaloons,  and  the  other  into  Barney's 
shirt  bosom,  and  was  tugging  and  blowing  industri- 
ously to  raise  himself  upon  his  feet.  At  last  they 
both  managed  to  get  upon  their  knees,  and  their  arms 
around  each  other's  neck,  and  leaning  hard  upon  each 
other,  trying  to  rise,  McGarr  lurched  and  both  fell 
sideways  into  the  snow.  Here  they  were  sprawling 
and  clinging  to  each  other  as  Doctor  Howard  drove 
nearly  upon  them  with  his  horse  and  cutter.  With 
considerable  effort  he  lumbered  them  into  the  cutter 
and  drove  back  to  the  tavern.  As  they  were  aided 


BREAKING   GROUND   AGAIN.  247 

into  the  bar-room.  Deacon  McGarr  felt  that  he  must 
say  something  about  Barney's  drinking.  The  latter, 
as  he  came  to  the  fire,  had  lopped  helplessly  down 
upon  the  floor. 

"What  a  (hie)  —  a  sad  sight  to — s-ee  a  man  in 
euch  a  sit-sit-sittyation,  Doctor  How-ard  ! " 

So  it  was  !  But  Barney  was  no  drunker  than  the 
Deacon,  yet  the  latter  had  violated  no  pledge,  and 
was  a  temperance  man  in  good  standing. 

Our  readers  will  see  the  working  of  the  old  pledge. 
The  appeal  to  the  bloated  customer  of  the  dramshop 
fell  with  pointless  effect  from  lips  fuming  with  wine. 
The  effects  of  wine  and  common  whisky  were  the 
same.  They  both  produced  drunkenness.  Day  by 
day  and  step  by  step  the  wine  drinker  went  down- 
ward, until  he  became  a  common  drunkard  and  an 
outcast,  yet  violated  no  pledge  until  he  commenced 
upon  "  ardent  or  distilled  spirits  !  " 

The  history  of  those  who  attempted  to  reform  under 
the  old  pledge,  is  a  sad  one.  In  a  milder  garb  the 
enemy  lurked  in  the  wine  cup,  and  the  still  bound  vic- 
tim went  back  to  ruin.  The  demon  glittered  in  the 
first  drop.  The  light  of  the  wine  bubble  would  kin- 
dle into  intensity  the  fires  deepest  smouldering  in  the 
crater.  The  milder  drink  was  the  sure  precursor  of 
the  flood  in  its  fury,  and  there  was  no  safety  to  the 
reformed  one.  The  wine  drinker  might  reel  from  the 
midnight  revel,  or  drool  in  the  saloon,  and  yet  be  all 
that  the  old  pledge  demanded.  The  sot  caught  sight 
of  the  first  beacon  flame  which  shone  dimly  into  the 


24:8  MINNIE   HEKMON". 

surrounding  darkness,  and  turned  to  greet  its  better 
promise.  The  power  in  the  wine  glass,  the  beer  or 
cider,  harassed  his  footsteps,  and  plunged  him  again 
into  the  abyss,  where  he  beat  the  wave  with  a  feeble 
hand.  Few  of  the  baser  streams  were  dried  up,  for 
the  fountain  head  flowed  on  as  ever,  from  the  side- 
board and  the  social  and  festive  party.  The  blasted 
wrecks  in  the  drunkery  were  but  the  legitimate  re- 
sults of  the  very  priviliges  tolerated  under  the  old 
pledge.  It  was  but  a  cobweb  around  the  uncrippled 
folds  of  the  Hydra.  Not  a  head  had  been  successfully 
struck  off.  The  wine  drops  were  but  the  bloody  seed 
of  new  monsters,  for  not  a  wound  had  been  seared  in 
the  contest. 

At  this  point  the  Total  Abstinence  Pledge  was 
brought  out.  It  followed  naturally  in  the  footsteps 
of  the  other.  The  old  had  prepared  the  way  for  the 
new.  It  added  a  brighter  glow  to  the  first  beacon 
light. 

From  the  truest  friends  of  the  cause  it  met  with 
stern  opposition.  These  men  saw  in  it  ruin  to  the 
great  work.  It  was  the  extreme  of  ultraism.  It  was 
too  radical.  Its  adoption  would  destroy  what  little 
good  had  been  effected,  and  forever  block  the  work 
so  auspiciously  begun.  The  contest  was  fierce  be- 
tween temperance  men.  A  large  class  were  honestly 
fearful  of  the  result  from  love  of  the  cause,  while 
others  clung  to  their  "harmless  beverage."  Many 
of  the  latter  class  occupy  the  same  position  to-day, 
never  have  advanced.  They  broke  off  during 


BREAKING  GROUND  AGAIN.  249 

the  struggle,  and  there  they  remain,  such  as  have  not 
gone  down  prematurely  to  their  graves. 

But  the  cause  remained  firm  during  the  ordeal. 
The  poorer  material  came  out  without  the  dross,  and 
the  choicer  spirits  gathered  in  closer  union  on  the  ad- 
vanced ground.  The  result  proved  the  wisdom  of 
the  movement.  It  gave  the  reform  strength  and 
power,  and  proportionately  weakened  the  enemy.  In 
the  bar-rooms  and  shops  the  opposition  to  the  new 
pledge  was  the  fiercest.  Rumsellers  were  indignant 
at  this  most  fanatical  crusade  against  their  "  living," 
and  infatuated  customers  grew  eloquent  in  descanting 
about  the  liberties  fought  for  by  their  fathers  of  the 
revolution.  The  cry  of  fanaticism  was  rung  upon  all 
its  charges,  and  some  well  meaning  ones  joined  in  the 
general  crusade  against  the  wild  scheme  of  total  absti- 
nence. Muddled  wit  poured  its  lowest  wrath  of 
slang  phrases  upon  the  fanatics.  Nowhere  .were 
there  so  many  tears  shed  over  the  mad  movement  as 
in  the  dram-shop  circle. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  this  new  cold-water  move- 
ment ? "  asked  Counselor  Skillott  of  Doctor  Howard. 

"  What  movement  ?  —  the  new  pledge  ?  " 

"  Yes,  the  total  abstinence,  as  they  caL  it." 

"It-  meets  my  hearty  approbation.  Does  it  not 
yours  ? " 

"  I  can't  say  it  does." 

"Why  not?" 

"  O,  it 's  fanatical  in  the  extreme.  It  is  an  ill 
judged  move,  and  will  most  certainly  ruin  the  tern- 


250  MINNIE  IIERMON. 

perance  cause.     It  is  the  result  of  zeal  without  knowl 
edge." 

"  How  will  it  ruin  the  cause  ?  Is  n't  temperance 
right?" 

"  O,  yes  ;  temperance  is  a  good  thing.  I  'm  a  tem- 
perance man  ;  but  this  is  carrying  things  too  far — men 
will  not  go  it." 

"Will  total  abstinence  injure  a  man?  Do  you 
know  of  a  man  who  would  be  injured  by  taking  and 
adhering  to  the  abstinence  pledge  ?  " 

"Ahem  —  it  would  be  well  enough  for  drunkards, 
but  men  of  mind  and  moderation  will  not  bind  them- 
selves to,  or  countenance  so  unreasonable  a  scheme.  A 
moderate  glass  will  hurt  no  one.  Because  men  abuse 
a  necessary  beverage,  it  is  no  reason  why  all  should 
discard  it  entirely." 

"  Should  friends  of  temperance  recommend  for  the 
drunkard  that  which  they  will  not  themselves  put  in 
practice?  Should  men  whose  appetites  do  not  con- 
trol them,  and  consequently  can  make  no  sacrifice, 
hesitate  to  countenance  a  measure  which  is  the  drunk- 
ard's only  hope  ?  You  speak  of  a  '  moderate  glass.' 
Is  it  the  first  glass  which  makes  the  drunkard  ?  Are 
they  not  all  moderate  drinkers  on  the  start  ?  If  there 
were  no  moderate  drinkers,  would  there  ever  be  any 
drunkards  ?  As  to  the  abuse  of  it,  Mr.  Skillott,  I  take 
higher  ground.  From  the  light  of  science,  I  affirm 
that  its  moderate  use  is  an  abuse.  It  is  an  element 
of  discord  and  derangement  in  the  whole  animal  econ 
omy,  and  an  injury  to  every  man  in  health." 


BREAKING   GROUND   AGAIN.  251 

"  But  that  it  is  good  as  a  medicine,  you  will  not  deny.' 

"  And  so  is  arsenic.  But,  because  men  may  take 
tne  one  for  a  medicine,  would  it  be  expected  that  he 
should  become  a  habitual  user  of  it  in  health  ? " 

"  But  is  n't  it  needed  in  cold  weather  ?  " 

"  Never  !  I  could  point  you  to  those  in  this  neigh- 
borhood, whose  drinking  habits  were  anything  but 
beneficial  in  cold  weather." 

"  But  men  kill  themselves  with  axes  and  knives." 

"  Very  true.  But  did  you  ever  hear  of  their  form- 
ing morbid  appetites  for  the  use  of  them, — becoming 
murderers  or  suicides  from  whittling  or  chopping  cord- 
wood?" 

"  But,"  continued  Skillott,  evasively,  "  sober  men 
will  not  go  the  total  abstinence  pledge  —  it  would  be 
an  acknowledgment  of  their  fear  of  becoming  drunk- 
ards." 

"  You  petitioned  for  a  permit  to  keep  a  dice  table  : 
was  it  because  you  wished  to  become  a  gambler? — or 
for  the  benefit  of  others  ?  " 

The  thrust  went  home,  and  Skillott  declared  him- 
self abused,  and  entered  his  office.  As  Howard  pas- 
sed the  tavern,  a  number  accosted  him  from  the  stoop 
about  the  new  cold-water  trick.  Among  others,  Her- 
mon  assailed  him,  and  charged  him  with  slandering 
him  at  the  meeting  the  night  before. 

"How,  Mr.  Hermon?" 

"  By  saying  that  all  the  tavern-keepers  were  ene- 
mies of  temperance.  I  am  as  much  of  a  temperance 
man  as  you  are." 


252  MTXNIE  HERMON. 

"  lla,  ha ! "  answered  Howard,  looking  Hermon 
steadily  in  the  eye. 

"  "What  are  you  laughing  at,  sir  ? "  asked  the  latter, 
evidently  nettled. 

"  At  a  temperance  man's  peddling  rum  to  drunk 
ards ! " 

"  You  lie,  sir !     I  never  sell  to  drunkards." 

"But  sell  until  they  are  drunkards,  and  then  turn 
'em  out  for  Shimer  to  finish'!  " 

"  I  want  you  and  the  rest  of  your  crew  of  fanatics 
to  understand  that  I  do  not  wish  any  man  to  become 
a  drunkard." 

"  But  still  engage  in  the  only  business  that  makes 
drunKards ! " 

"  It 's  false !     You  are  always  slandering  me." 

"  Mr.  Hermon,  was  there  ever  a  drunkard  in  this 
community  before  your  tavern  was  started  ? " 

"  Then  you  would  say  that  /made  'em  all !  " 

«  Who  did?" 

u  It  was  their  own  doings.  I  only  sell  as  I  have  a 
license  to  do." 

"  And  if  you  had  a  license  to  teach  theft,  you  would 
not  be  responsible  for  the  thieves  you  made,  would 
you  ? " 

"  But  you  can't  make  your  total  abstinence  business 
go  down  in  this  community.  People  won't  submit  to 
it.  It  will  ruin  the  temperance  cause." 

"  That 's  a  (hie)  — fact,"  stuttered  a  poor  ragged  ob- 
ject at  Hermon's  elbow.  "  Will  roo-o-in  the  t-(hic) 
the  t'hemperance  cause." 


BREAKING  GROUND  AGAIN.  258 

"  Better  ruin  that  than  to  ruin  men"  coolly  answer- 
ed Howard,  looking  upon  the  reeling  creature. 

"  He  (hie)  —  he  abuses  us,  don't  he  Miz-zer  Her- 
nernion  ? " 

Howard  was  determined  to  cut  deeper,  and  con- 
tinued : 

"You  complain  because  I  stated  that  there  was 
no  safety  in  the  old  pledge  to  the  drunkard  —  that  not 
a  rumseller  in  town  would  refuse. the  reformed  man  a 
glass  of  beer  if  he  knew  it-would  send  him  back  again 
to  his  old  habits." 

"  I  do.     You  state  that  which  is  not  so." 

"  Did  n't  you  let  Miller  have  beer,  knowing  his  ap- 
petite for  liquor,  and  that  it  was  a  trap  to  make  him 
break  his  pledge  ^" 

"  Who  says  that  ?  " 

"/say  it!" 

"  It 's  false,  I  tell  you.  What  is  a  man  good  for  if 
he  can't  stand  a  glass  of  beer  ?  He  no  need  to  have 
drinked  it." 

"  But  you  saw  him  teazed  until  he  did  drink  it, 
knowing  that  the  liquor  once  down,  the  man  could 
not  control  himself;  and  then  you  let  him  have 
brandy,  and  boasted  that  you  knew  he  wouldn't 
stick." 

"  What  business  is  that  to  you,  if  I  did,"  growled 
Ilerraon,  with  ill-suppressed  excitement. 

"  It 's  my  business  to  denounce  the  act  as  most 
devilish.  It  shows  your  hypocritical  love  of  the  old 
pledge  and  of  temperance.  An  infernal  imp  might 


254  MINNIE   HEKMON. 

blush  to  see  a  man  plotting  another's  fall  and  then 
rejoice  in  the  ruin." 

"  It  shows  all  the  honesty  there  is  to  your  temper- 
ance men.  They  can't  keep  from  drinking." 

"  Herrnon,  you  are  a  cool,  brazen-faced  scoundrel, 
and  richly  deserve  hanging  for  the  death  of  Miller. 
If  his  spirit  don't  haunt  you,  it  will  be  because  it  will 
shun  the  den  where  the  body  was  slaughtered." 

"  Who  says  Miller  is  dead,  you  black-hearted 
fanatic  ?  " 

"  I  say  so.  I  saw  him  die  this  morning,  arid  his 
death  dates  from  the  trap  you  and  Skillott  set  to  heap 
ridicule  upon  the  temperance  cause." 

"  And  because  men  will  make  fools  of  themselves, 
you  would  deprive  me  of  an  honest  living  ? " 

"  Deprive  of  the  power  to  plunder  community,  and 
destroy  your  own  neighbors  —  that 's  all." 

"  You  're  an  abusive  knave  !  I  believe  you  would 
joy  to  see  rne  a  pauper.  It's  all  of  a  piece  with 
your  new  schemes  to  ruin  honest  men." 

"  You  may  as  well  be  a  pauper  as  to  make  paupers. 
A  pretty  temperance  man,  and  prating  too  about  the 
old  pledge !  Not  a  drunkard  has  fallen  who  does  not 
owe  his  ruin  to  you  and  your  co-laborers  in  ruin. 
You  smile  while  preaching  temperance  and  offering 
our  reformed  men  beer,  knowing  all  the  time  that  one 
glass  is  their  ruin.  It  all  convinces  me  that  our  new 
pledge  is  right ;  for  a  reformed  man  should  not  only 
shun  all  that  can  intoxicate,  but  the  very  place  where 
the  accursed  poison  is  kept.  There  is  no  safety  in  the 


BREAKING  GROUND  AGAIN.  255 

associations  of  men  who  are  so  utterly  base  and  heart- 
less as  to  work  the  ruin  of  one  who  would  live  and 
die  a  sober  man.  God  deliver  us  from  such  fiends, 
and  keep  the  reformed  drunkard  from  their  accursing 
influence.  Hell  knows  no  blacker  depravity  than 
that  which  would  drag  a  fellow  again  to  degradation, 
or  a  more  rascally  falsehood  than  their  pretended 
temperance.  Satan  was  as  much  a  friend  of  human, 
happiness  when  he  slimed  into  Eden.  The  very 
threshold  you  stand  upon,  Hermon,  is  smoking  with 
blood,  and  for  the  universe  of  God,  I  would  not  have 
on  my  hand  the  stain  of  such  guilt  as  is  on  yours.  You 
know  what  you  are  doing.  You  know  that  the  old 
pledge  is  worthless,  and  that  you  rejoice  in  seeing  it 
broken.  I  once  petitioned  for  your  license.  If  God 
will  forgive  me  for  that,  I  never  will  commit  so  great 
a  sin  again.  So  long  as  you  sell  rum  do  not  brand 
yourself  as  an  unblushing  liar  by  continuing  in  the 
business  of  making  drunkards."  The  words  poured  in 
a  torrent  from  Howard's  lips  as  he  stood  close  to  Her- 
mon and  hurled  them  in  his  ear.  His  manner  was  so 
fierce  and  impetuous,  and  his  words  so  scathing,  that 
the  landlord  of  the  "  Home  "  was  apparently  awed 
into  silence,  and  strode  sullenly  back  into  the  bar- 
room. 

"  Some  of  these  temperance  fanatics  will  get  so 
crazy  that  they  will  set  everybody  by  the  ears.  If  I 
should  abuse  a  man  as  Howard  has  me,  I  should  not 
blame  him  if  he  should  burn  my  barn  !  "  ' 

The  crowd  did  not  notice  the  look  that  passed  be- 


256  MINNIE   IIEKMON. 

tween  Hermon  and  one  of  his  customers.  That  night 
Howard's  horse-barn  was  burned,  horses,  carriages, 
and  all"  and  in  the  morning  the  incendiary  was  tracked 
to  Hermon's  shed,  where  the  wretched  creature  was 
frozen,  having  crawled  about  half-way  under  the 
shattered  stable-door. 

Every  rumseller  in  Oakvale  stuck  zealously  for  the 
old  pledge.  If  the  temperance  people  had  abided  by 
that,  they  could  have  gone  with  them  !  The  new 
pledge  was  intolerant  and  fanatical,  and  would  most 
assuredly  ruin  the  cause !  And  these  men,  who  op- 
posed the  first  movement  as  "going  too  far,"  were 
now  its  mourning  friends.  As  for  Counselor  Skillott, 
he  knew  the  whole  thing  was  originated  by  priestcraft 
and  fanaticism,  and  so  didn't  join  the  society. 

Among  others  who  frowned  upon  the  new  state  of 
things,  was  Elder  Snyder.  Indeed,  the  first  had  met 
his  stately  and  scornful  displeasure.  The  wicked  and 
the  ungodly  were  admitted  as  members,  and  he  could 
not  associate  with  such.  Atheists, and  men  who  had 
been  drunken,  and  those  who  made  not  long  prayers 
nor  wore  sanctimonious  faces,  had  been  allowed  to 
sign  both  pledges.  Those  who  did  not  attend  his 
church,  nor  pay  their  money  to  support  his  ministry, 
could  not  receive  the  least  countenance  from  him. 

At  a  donation  party  given  to  the  Elder  by  his 
friends,  and  held  at  his  house,  the  subject  of  temper- 
ance was  introduced  and  discussed.  Walter  Bray  ton 
went  so  far  as  to  ask  the  pastor  to  put  his  name  to  the 
pledge.  Looking  upon  the  young  man  with  a  solemn 


BREAKING  GROUND  AGAIN.  257 

frown,  he  drew  himself  up,  and  in  his  usual  sancti- 
monious drawl,  gave  his  objections  : 

"Young  man! — I  awfully  fear  you  do  nl)t  know 
what  you  are  doing.  You  and  your  temperance 
friends  are  going  after  strange  gods.  You  seem  to 
think  yourself  wiser  than  your  teachers.  You  are 
most  assuredly  led  away  by  the  blindest  fanaticism, 
and  great  evil  has  already  come  of  it.  Hatreds  and 
jealousies,  strifes  and  contentions,  have  entered  into 
the  hearts  of  my  people.  Satan  has  certainly  to  do 
with  these  strange  and  wicked  doctrines.  You  ask 
me  to  sign  a  pledge  not  to  drink  any  wines  or  spiritu- 
ous liquors  at  all !  The  world,  my  friends,  is  coming 
to  a  strange  pass,  when  we  must  totally  abstain  from 
the  good  gifts  of  Clod.  Temperance  is  a  moderate  use 
of  all  his  bounties.  We  are  required  by  the  Bible  to 
drink  wine.  The  Saviour  himself  made  and  drank 
wine.  It  is  designed  as  a  blessing  to  man,  and  it  is 
the  will  of  our  Lord  that  we  enjoy  it.  "We  are  not 
responsible  for  the  abuse  which  ungodly  men  make 
of  these  things.  Men  are  gluttons  —  and  shall  we 
abstain  from  all  food  ?  Men  are  hypocrites  —  and 
shall  we  discard  the  religion  of  our  Lord  and  Master  ? 
There  is  no  authority  in  the  Bible  for  these  societies. 
I  cannot  saction  what  has  not  a  "  thus  saith  the  Lord  " 
for  it.  Ungodly  men  are  in  this  movement,  and  the 
pious  Christian  should  set  his  face  firmly  against  it. 
He  who  is  within  the  ark  of  safety  needs  none  of  these 
foolish  helps.  If  it  is  the  dear  Lord's  will  to  have 

some  of  the  souls  he  has  created  lost  in  the  abuse  of 
11 


258  MINNIE   HEKMOX. 

eorae  of  his  good  gifts,  it  were  wrong  for  us  to  contra- 
vene his  purposes.  His  holy  will  be  done.  Those  he 
has  chosen  will  he  save.  A  moderate  use  of  his 
bounties  is  gocd  for  all.  Let  us  give  thanks."  . 

And  over  the  table  glittering  with  decanters  and 
glasses  the  false  teacher  craved  a  blessing,  and  the 
wine  went  round.  The  Elder  seemed  to  pride  him- 
self upon  watching  those  to  whom  it  was  presented. 
There  were  few  who  refused  the  cup,  and  the  contents 
produced  a  marked  flow  of  good  feeling.  Herrnon 
was  present,  and  at  once  became  a  pattern  of  piety, 
and  donated  to  the  Elder  with  extreme  liberality, 
ijrayton  and  Howard  refused  the  wine,  and  there 
were  half-smothered  titterings  about  "cold  water," 
"fools,"  and  "fanaticism."  Minnie  welcomed  the 
cup  with  an  emphatic  no,  which  drew  the  attention 
of  the  company  around  her ;  but,  save  a  slight  flush, 
she  was  calm,  and  returned  the  reproving  glance  of 
the  pastor  with  dignity  and  firmness.  Back  of  hei 
stood  one  who  had  not  yet  attracted  notice.  As  the 
waiter  came  to  him  he  fiercely  put  it  away  with  his 
hand,  and  drew  himself  up,  looking  upon  the  wine 
with  a  strangely  wild  and  glistening  eye.  His  person 
was  full  six  feet  in  height,  his  countenance  sharp  and 
pale,  his  hair  long,  and  his  eyes  deeply  sunken  and 
intensely  brilliant.  He  wore  a  long  surtout  coat, 
closely  buttoned,  had  on  a  broad-brimmed  hat,  and 
in  his  hand  a  long  staff. 

"JVb/"  he  fairly  howled  through  his  clenched 
"  Away  with  the  sparkling  devil !  It  bubblea 


BREAKING   GROUND   AGAEST.  259 

with  damnation!  It  is  the  red  blood  of  butchery  ! 
It  is  the  fiery  beverage  of  hell !  The  tempter  is-  coil- 
ed at  the  bottom !  '  At  last  it  stingeth  like  an  adder 
and  liteth  like  a  serpent !  '  It  shall  sting  to  utter  ruin 
the  hand  which  hands  it  this  night  with  the  mockery 
of  a  blessing  craved  upon  it !  I  say,  get  thee  gone, 
devil,  or  the  arm  of  the  Lord  shall  smite  thee !  "  The 
strange  personage  raised  his  long  staff,  and  would 
have  fiercely  dashed  the  cup  in  fragments  had  it  re- 
mained before  him. 

"  Who  thus  intrudes  here  so  noisily  ? "  asked  the 
Elder,  pale  with  anger. 

"  The  chosen  of  the  Lord — the  avenger  of  the  slain ! 
Blood  cries  from  the  ground,  and  the  widow  and  or- 
phan beg  for  bread.  Woe !  woe !  for  the  Mighty 
One  is  after  ye  !  Hypocrites,  false  teachers,  gluttons, 
and  wine  bibbers,  woe !  for  the  end  cometh !  Men 
are  led  astray  by  wicked  ones  in  priestly  garb,  and 
the  innocents  are  wailing  for  bread  in  the  land.  The 
wrath  of  God  kindles  against  ye  for  the  violence  in 
the  land,  and  shall  consume  ye  as  stubble!  Woe! 
woe !  woe !  I  say,  ye  workers  of  ruin  !  It  is  written 
against  ye  in  blood,  and  God  shall  avenge  the  fallen ! 
Away  !  I  tell  ye,  with  the  beverage  of  the  damned ! 
Thus  I  will  smite  thee  as  the  Lord  smote  the  wicked 
of  old,  and  will  smite  them  again  !  " 

Whirling  his  long  staff  with  an  almost  supernatu- 
ral power  and  velocity,  he  stepped  towards  the  side 
board,  and  with  an  eye  red  and  glaring,  and  a  voice 
B welling  into  a  howl,  with  one  tremendous  swoop, 


260  MINNIE  HEKMON. 

dashed  every  glass  and  decanter  into  a  thousand  frag- 
ments. Astonishment  was  upon  every  countenance, 
and  there  was  not  a  whisper  in  the  room  until  a  wild, 
maniac-burst  of  laughter  came  back  from  the  strange 
apparition  as  he  emerged  into  the  street. 

Paleness  lingered  upon  the  lip  of  Elder  Siiyder  — 
the  paleness  of  anger  not  unmixed  with  that  of  awe. 
The  stranger  was  a  personage  not  to  be  forgotten,  for 
his  tones  had  a  startling  energy  and  power.  The  com- 
pany did  not  recover  from  the  influence  of  the  inci- 
dent, and  soon  dispersed. 

Among  those  who  were  present  that  night,  was  a 
reformed  man  by  the  name  of  "Whitney.  From  the 
lowest  depths  of  drunkenness  he  had  come  up,  and  by 
industry  and  unblemished  good  conduct  had  given 
promise  of  redeeming  the  position  he  had  lost  in  soci- 
ety, and  of  living  a  life  of  future  usefulness.  His 
family  were  again  comfortable,  his  children  at  school, 
and  he  prospering  at  his  trade.  He  had  united  with 
the  Methodist  church,  and  by  his  exemplary  deport- 
ment won  the  full  confidence  of  its  members.  He 
had  that  night  been  for  the  first  time  within  the  reach 
of  the  fatal  circle  of  the  glass.  The  gurgle  of  the 
liquor  and  its  foam,  with  the  solemn  sophistry  and 
example  of  a  Christian  minister,  combined  to  under- 
mine his  integrity.  Beautifully  the  incense  rose  up 
before  him,  and  as  Snyder  himself  presented  the  cup 
he  impulsively  grasped  it  firmly  and  drained  it  off. 
A  smouldering  fire  was  kindled.  A  wild  glow  shot 
through  every  vein,  and  within  his  stomach  the  demon 


BREAKING   GROUND   AGAIN  261 

was  aroused  in  his  strength.  Whitney  had  but  one 
thought  —  more  drink!  That  he  must  have.  The 

O 

desire  burned  within  him.  It  crept  to  his  fingers' 
ends,  and  out  in  a  burning  flush  upon  his  cheek.  He 
writhed  helplessly,  and  the  large  drops  stood  thickly 
upon  his  brow.  He  felt  as  if  already  fallen — a  guilty 
wretch — and  shrunk  cowering  from  the  gaze  of  every 
eye. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Whitney?"  kindly  asked 
Brayton,  as  he  passed  him  in  going  out.  Whitney 
started  as  if  from  a  nightmare,  and  glared  silently  at 
vacancy.  Snatching  his  hat,  he  rushed  out  with  a 
half-sad,  half-exultant  yell,  and  sped  down  the  street 
into  Hermon's. 

"  Drink !  drink !  for  God's  sake  give  me  drink ! 
Quick ! "  and  the  trembling  wretch  turned  with  a 
ghastly  stare  at  the  door,  as  if  dreading  the  approach 
of  some  one,  his  hands  fastened  convulsively  upon  the 
slats  before  the  bar. 

A  devilish  smile  crept  over  the  swollen  visage  of 
Hermon,  as  he  saw  who  it  was  who  begged  so  madly 
for  drink.  Hesitating  a  moment,  as  if  enjoying  the 
struggles  of  the  victim,  he  sneeringly  asked : 

"  That  you,  Whitney  ?  I  thought  you  was  a  tem- 
perance man!  What '11  the  church  say?  But  I 
s'pose  you  will  drink  moderately"  and  he  smiled  more 
fiendishly  than  ever. 

"Drink!  I  say-;  give  me  drink.  Money,  soul, 
clothes,  tools  —  everything  for  one  drink!  Give  ittc 


262  MINNIE  HEEMON. 

me,  quick!"  and  the  poor  maniac  emptied  his  pock- 
ets upon  the  counter,  and  pulled  off  his  coat  and 
hurled  it  into  the  bar.  His  eye  gleamed  and  kindled 
as  he  glanced  upon  the  shining  bottles,  and  his  voice 
was  choked  and  husky,  he  constantly  begging  as 
though  his  whole  system  was  on  fire. 

Bray  ton  and  Howard  entered  just  as  Hermon  set 
the  bottle  on  the  counter.  Whitney  heard  their  foot- 
steps, and  convulsively  grasped  the  bottle  and  tum- 
bler and  turned  it  full,  and  in  his  eagerness  spilled  as 
much  more  upon  the  counter. 

"  Whitney  !  in  God's  name,  what  are  you  doing  ? 
Hermon !  more  of  your  devilish  work  ! "  said  How- 
ard, rushing  up  to  the  bar  and  arresting  the  arm  of 
Whitney.  But  the  latter  was  too  quick  for  the  move- 
ment. Grasping  both  hands  fiercely  around  the  glass, 
he  dropped  his  mouth  to  the  rim,  and  turned  the  con- 
tents off  at  a  breath,  shutting  his  teeth  with  a  spasm 
as  he  did  so,  breaking  the  top  of  the  glass  in  pieces, 
and  spitting  them  on  the  floor.  With  a  long,  deep 
breath  he  drew  himself  up  to  his  full  height,  and 
dashed  the  bottom  full  in  the  face  of  Howard.  The 
yell  that  followed  the  act  was  horrible. 

"  You  thought  to  keep  me  from  drink,  eh  ?  I  '11 
liave  it  if  I  have  to  go  to  hell  after  it !  Who-o-oop  ! 
Won't  Father  Merrill  roar  when  he  finds  old  Whit- 
ney 's  born  again !  I  'm  your  boy  to  say  amen,  Doc- 
^tor!"  and  with  drunken  laughter  he  commenced  a 
bacchanalian  soug,  and  danced  wildly  around  the 


BREAKING  GROUND  AGAIN.  263 

room.  No  words  from  Howard  or  Brayton  could 
touch  Mm ;  and  he  fiercely  repelled  all  efforts  to  lead 
him  from  the  tavern. 

"  Better  have  him  sign  the  pledge  again,"  sneered 
Hermon,  from  behind  his  counter. 

"  Black-hearted,  murderous  villain  \ "  groaned  How- 
ard from  between  his  teeth,  as  he  reached  in  vain  for 
the  landlord  over  the  counter.  "  You  deserve  hang- 
ing most  richly.  None  but  a  devil  in  human  guise 
would  thus  exult  in  such  work.  I  did  not  dream  that 
earth  had  such  monsters  as  you  \ "  The  Doctor  stood 
glaring  upon  the  sneering  landlord,  who  wisely  kept 
out  of  his  reach. 

"  And  he  will  hang  yet,  for  the  avenger  will  over 
take  him  in  such  an  hour  as  he  knoweth  not  He  is 
both  a  curse  and  accursed,  and  so  shall  hang  clear  of 
the  earth."  All  within  the  room  started  at  the  sound 
of  that  voice,  and  beheld  the  strange  man  with  the 
long  surtout  and  staff,  steadily  gazing  upon  Hermon. 
The  sneer  upon  the  face  of  the  latter  faded  away  un- 
der the  basilisk  gaze,  and  a  chill  strangely  crept  over 
him  —  the  voice  was  familiar,  and  stirred  unpleasant 
memories. 

That  night  the  spirit  of  another  fallen  one  went 
where  rum  is  not.  As  the  water  was  let  upon  the 
wheel  of  the  grist-mill  the  next  morning,  it  made  a 
few  revolutions,  and  then  with  a  crushing  sound  ceased 
to  turn.  No  effort  with  poles  and  hooks  could  re- 
move the  difficulty,  and  the  water  was  let  out  of  the 
dam.  Crushed  in  among  the  broken  buckets  was  a 


264  MINNIE   HEKMON. 

corpse,  the  head,  shoulders  and  arras  left  unbroken. 
Erect  as  in  life,  the  bloated  features  of  "Whitney 
glared  out,  and  the  dripping  hair  lay  closely  upon  the 
bloodless  brow. 

As  the  wife  and  children,  too  soon  hearing  of  the 
affair,  came  wailing  to  the  scene,  and  fell  weeping 
over  the  wet  and  bloody  remains,  Hermon  turned  and 
slipped  away. 

"  The  murderers  are  not  all  hung  yet !  "  was  his- 
sed close  to  his  ear.  He  started,  but  dared  not  turn 
to  look,  for  he  knew  his  tormentor. 

"With  a  heart  full  of  keener  anguish  than  even  the 
wife,  Minnie  Hermon  attended  the  funeral  of  Whit- 
ney. The  sermon  was  from  these  words,  "  Where  is 
thy  'brother?"  She  felt  that  poor  "Whitney  had  died 
by  her  own  father's  hand,  and  every  sob  from  the 
widow  and  the  orphans  added  keener  pangs  to  her 
own  bitter  anguish. 


CHAPTEE  XXIII. 

LIGHT   IN   A  DARK   PLACE. 

AMONG  others  who  sold  rum  in  Oakvale,  was  a 
man  by  the  name  of  Jud  Lane,  one  of  the  most  reck- 
less and  unprincipled  of  his  class.  He  kept  what  was 
called  the  k'  Lower  Tavern,"  a  low  and  disreputable 
den,  by  the  river  bridge.  The  building  itself  was  a 
miserable  structure,  answering  for  a  grog-shop  and 
gambling  den.  The  boards  were  off  the  shed,  the 
floor  of  the  stoop  rotten,  and  falling  away,  and  one 
end  of  the  upright  part  settling  down  with  age  and 
decay.  The  sheeting  was  loose  and  clattering,  the 
windows  dirty  and  broken,  and  the  door  worn  and 
begri mined  with  dirt.  The  bar-room  looked  as 
though  it  had  never  been  cleaned.  Dirt  and  tobacco 
spittle  was  thickly  crusted  upon  the  floor ;  the  wooden 
bars  before  the  windows  were  greasy  and  cut  up  with 
the  knife,  and  the  old  brick  fire-place  was  crumbling 
away.  A  long  seat  reached  from  the  old-fashioned 
oat-bin  to  the  door,  well  worn  by  the  groups  which 
had  for  years  there  set  and  displayed  their  slavering 
wisdom.  An  old  wash  sink  stood  in  the  corner,  slimed 
over  again  and  again  by  dirty  drippings,  surmounted 
by.  a  washbowl  marked  inside  with  a  circle  of  the 
more  plentiful  ornamenting.  Upon  the  roller  was  a 


266  MINNIE   HEKMON. 

napkin  to  match.  A  huge  boot-jack  hung  over  the 
mantel,  together  with  circus  bills,  sheriff's  sales,  and 
auction  or  patent  medicine  placards,  "  sold  here." 
The  bar  was  one  of  the  old-fashioned  kind,  with  a 
picket  work  and  double  door.  Gringy  kegs,  decan- 
ters and  a  bottle  of  stoughton,  with  candy  in  a  seven- 
by-nine  glass  case,  completed  the  bar-room  furniture 
of  the  "  River  Hotel." 

Jud  Lane  was  a  man  worthy  of  a  moment's  atten- 
tion. He  was  a  licensed  agent  of  the  government, 
dealing  liquors  in  that  old  shed  by  the  authority  of 
law.  He  was  hardly  of  medium  stature,  but  thick 
set ;  his  features  harsh  and  repulsive,  hair  matted, 
and  concealing  a  low  and  retreating  brow,  eyes  of  a 
muddy  bronze  color,  nose  flattened,  neck  thick,  and 
lower  jaw  heavy,  arms  long,  and  legs  crooked  to  de- 
formity. With  hands  thrust  deeply  into  his  pockets 
and  hat  drawn  down  over  his  eyes,  he  moved  back- 
wards and  forwards  across  the  floor.  His  whole  as- 
pect was  most  villainous,  indicating  the  inner  man  in 
palpable  and  revolting  language.  None  of  earth's 
unfortunates  was  ever  too  degraded  to  be  turned 
away  from  his  bar.  The  vilest  of  rum's  shattered 
wrecks  crawled  regularly  into  his  den  for  the  dram. 
The  wife  or  the  child  would  never  have  thought  of  en- 
tering his  door  to  protest  against  his  course  with  hus- 
band or  parent.  His  mouth  was  an  ever-active  crater 
of  the  most  vile  and  malignant  cursing.  His  own 

o  •  o 

sister's  husband  had  drank,  and  died  a  horrible  death 
in  his  bar-room.  Still  more  abandoned  and  malig- 


LIGHT   IN   A   DAEK   PLACE.  267 

nant  as  the  reform  came  into  notice,  Jud  Lane  pre- 
sented the  perfect  embodiment  of  a  callous,' cruel  and 
revengeful  rum-dealer.  He  would  rather  sell  rum 
and  slaughter  his  fellows,  in  the  River  Hotel,  than 
live  elsewhere  honored  and  respected.  His  boys  were 
like  him,  playing  the  most  abusive  tricks  upon  the 
pobr  wretches  who  lingered  there  for  their  drams. 

Election  day  had  drawn  to  a  close,  but  crowds  still 
lingered  to  drink  and  carouse.  Jud  Lane's  tavern 
secured  a  large  number  of  votes,  and  the  election 
had  been  held  there.  At  night,  the  bar-room  was 
densely  crammed  with  people,  swaying,  singing, 
shouting,  cursing,  drinking,  and  now  and  then  fight- 
ing, the  dim  light  revealing  an  atmosphere  loaded 
with  the  mingled  odor  of  tobacco  and  rum,  reeking 
like  a  poisonous  stench  from  the  lungs  of  the  drunk- 
en mass.  The  jingle  of  glasses  was  incessant,  and  at 
the  hour  of  midnight,  tipplers  and  drunken  men  still 
lingered.  The  bunk  and  the  space  under  the  bench, 
the  shed  and  the  hay-loft,  were  stored  with  drunken 
men.  Such  is  the  material  out  of  which  partisan 
leaders  manufacture  the  "  popular  will,"  and  slime 
into  public  stations. 

Five  hard-looking  customers  were  still  drinking  at 
the  bar,  alternating  with  a  song  or  a  story,  by  one 
of  the  number.  One  of  them  was  a  middle-aged 
man,  slightly  gray,  and  not  entirely  unprepossessing 
in  his  appearance,  save  the  bloated  face  and  the  dirty 
suit  of  rags.  He  was  a  leader  among  them,  and  dis- 
played talent  in  his  drunken  sallies. 


268  MINNIE   IIKRMON. 

The  subjects  of  temperance,  and  the  meeting  ap- 
pointed for  the  morrow  evening,  came  up. 

"  I'll  treat  the  crowd,  if  you'll  all  go,-  boys,  and 
cany  your  bottles  and  give  'em  beans"  said  Lane 
cool  and  sober  in  the  midst  of  the  general  drunken 
ness. 

"  Done,"  said  Barney  Kits.  "  H — ot  wa-(hic)*tei 
agin  cold.  Set  on  the  top-hetchel.  Old  Barney's  on 
earth  in  spite  of  rum  and  lightning." 

"  I'll  treat  again,  if  you'll  e^that  long-haired  cuss 
who  is  round  preaching  on  the  corners  of  the  streets, 
and  find  the  tools,"  continued  Lane,  bitterly.  "  Catch 
him  on  my  steps !  "  and  he  ground  his  teeth  as  he 
crushed  the  sugar  in  the  glass. 

"A  shilling  to  the  man  who  hits  him ! "  dis- 
tinctly muttered  our  strange  friend  in  the  long  hair 
and  surtout,  as  he  emerged  from  the  darkness  of 
the  street  and  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  room.  The 
noise  was  at  once  hushed,  and  Lane  scowled  with  an- 
gered surprise. 

"  The  long  haired  hypocrite  will  be  there  to-mor- 
row night.  Bring  your  eggs,  Jud  Lane.  A  rotten 
cause  and  a  rotten  heart  must  need  rotten  arguments. 
Bring  'em  along,  and  also  those  you  prey  upon. 

"Out  of  the  house,  you  black-coated  devil," 
growled  Lane,  but  keeping  safely  behind  the  bar. 
Ilalton,  put  him  out  —  poker  him  out." 

Ualton,  the  man  in  rags,  seized  the  stranger  at  the 
word,  and  was  proceeding  to  put  the  command  in  ex- 
ecution, when  the  latter,  with  the  ease  with  which  he 


LIGHT  IN  A  DARK  PLACE.  269 

would  have  taken  a  child,  unhanded  Halton's  grasp, 
and  looked  him  sternly  in  the  eye. 

"  Henry  Haltou,  I  knew  you  when  you  were  one 
of  the  most  honored  of  men.  There  is  yet  manhood 
and  pride  in  your  heart.  I  know  there  is.  This  is 
not  the  place  or  the  company  for  you.  You  did  not 
look  thus  when  you  stood  with  Mary  Densmore  at 
the  altar.  A  spell  is  upon  ye !  Come  away,  Henry 
Halton,  from  this  vile  place,  and  be  saved.  We  will 
meet  you  half-way,  and  there  shall  be  singing  and  re- 
joicing for  the  prodigal's  return.  Your  sainted  moth- 
er and  wife  are  looking  down  from  Heaven.  Angels 
are  weeping,  Henry,  and  at  home,  [the  stranger 
whispered  as  he  breathed  the  words  into  Halton's  ear] 
the  only  being  who  loves  you  on  earth,  weeps  and 
prays  for  her  father.  Your  friends  are  not  her^^  Heri- 
ry  Halton  !  Go  with  us  and  be  saved.  Be  saved — • 
Henry  Halton,  be  saved!" 

The  lustrous  and  melting  eyes  worked  a  strange 
spell  over  the  hardened  drunkard.  As  a  tear  from 
the  stranger's  eye  fell  upon  the  open  palm,  Halton 
wept,  and  a  sigh  swelled  up  in  his  broad  bosom.  Still 
in  the  stranger's  grasp,  he  looked  imploringly  in  his 
eye,  as  if  hope  was  springing  up  in  his  darkened 
heart. 

"  Will  you  come,  Henry  Halton  —  come  to  honor 
and  to  God  ?  Say  this  night  you  will,  and  there  shall 
be  rejoicing  in  Heaven  !  Come!  " 

A  strange  scene  in  the  dimly  lighted  bar-room  of 
the  River  Hotel !  Drunkards  were  looking  unstead 


270  MINNIE  HEKMON. 

ily  but  silently  upon  it,  and  from  behind  the"  bar, 
where  the  last  round  of  glasses  stood  untasted,  glow- 
ered Lane  with  clenched  fists  and  teeth  upon  the 
stranger. 

"  Halton  !  tarry  not  among  the  tombs.  Come  !  " 
he  continued. 

"  Before  God  I  will!  "  gasped  Halton,  as  a  deeper 
Bigh  escaped  his  bosom,  and  he  ventured  to  look 
around  him.  As  his  eye  rested  upon  Lane,  he  quailed, 
so  fearful  is  the  influence  of  the  dealer  upon  his  vic- 
tim. The  stranger  saw  it,  and  continued  : 

"  Who  else  is  there  here  this  night  who  will  come 
with  Henry  Halton  to  home  and  manhood,  and  God? 
Come  with  him  this  night,  and  be  enslaved  ones  no 
more.  Turn  from  the  past."  And  the  stranger,  in 
low  but  strangely  sweet  and  thrilling  tones,  com- 
menced and  sang  "  Long,  Long  Ago."  The  drunk- 
ards wept,  and  as  the  question  was  again  asked, 
"  Who  will  come  with  Halton  ?  "  four  of  them  reeled 
up  around  him,  joining  hands  to  keep  from  falling. 

"And  here  you  solemnly  pledge  yourselves  never 
to  drink  anything  which  can  intoxicate  again. 

"  We-(hic)-we  do." 

"And  may  God  help  you  !  Now,"  thundered  the 
stranger,  a  wild  and  joyous  light  kindling  in  his  eye, 
"  come  away,  and  tarry  not,  nor  look  back,  or  the  ene- 
my is  upon  you  ?  Come  !  "  and  the  five  customers  of 
the  "Itiver  Hotel "  went  out  after  the  strange  man  in 
the  long  surtout. 

With  a  torrent  of  curses  pouring  from  his  mouth, 


tIGHT   IN   A   DARK    PLACE.  271' 

Jud  Lane  turned  the  liquor  in  the  glasses  back  into 
the  decanter,  and  walked  his  bar-room  like  a  mad- 
dened fiend,  gnashing  his  teeth,  and  swearing  ven- 
geance upon  the  temperance  fanatics,  and  the  five 
customers  in  particular.  "  They  would'nt  get  no  more 
liquor  from  his  shop,  if  they  choked  to  death  ; "  and 
yet  the  man's  only  consolation  in  his  anger  was,  that 
they  would  all  be  back  again  before  the  week  was  out. 

—  Desolate  was  the  foul  den,  with  only  the  snoring 
drunkards  left ;  and  Jud  Lane  went  cursing  to  bed. 

The  next  morning,  Jud  Lane  looked  confidently  for 
the  coming  of  his  five  customers  for  their  usual  morn- 
ing drams.  He  knew  no  passion  but  those  of  avarice 
and  hate,  and  he  raved  when  he  was  cheated  of  a  cus- 
tomer. Skillott  came  in  while  Lane  was  sullenly 
pacing  his  bar-room.  Skillott  had  become  an  habit- 
ual tippler,  and  to  disguise  his  habits  he  would  range 
through  the  whole  list  of  drinking  places,  and 
drink  at  them  all.  Lane  rehearsed  his  grievances  to 
a  sympathetic  listener.  Both  heaped  abuse  upon  the 
temperance  people.  As  to  the  five  drunkards  who 
had  been  led  away  by  that  long-coated  hypocrite,  both 
hoped  they  would  choke  tc  death  before  they  could 
find  a  drop, 

"  But  never  mind  ;  you  '11  have  'em,  Lane,  before 
the  week 's  out :  nothing  to  trap  'em." 

"  Get  'em  here  again  and  I  '11  sweat  'em.  I  '11 
learn  'em  to  leave  an  old  friend  for  these  cussed  fa- 
natics. I'll  sue  every  mother's  son  of  'em,  or  my 
name  ain't  Jud  Lane." 


272  MINNIE    ITEKMON. 

"  Do  they  owe  you  ? "  pleasantly  asked  Skillott,  ta- 
king his  lips  from  the  glass  he  was  emptying,  and 
brightening  up  at  the  thought  of  a  fee. 

"  They  do,  every  one  of  'em  ;  and  I  '11  have  my  pa} 
or  jug  'em." 

"  You  'vQJug'd  'em  pretty  well  already,"  put  in  old 
Barney  Kits,  who  had  just  dropped  in  for  his  dram. 

Lane  turned  upon  the  inveterate  old  joker  with  an 
angry  frown,  but  smothered  the  usual  torrent  of  oaths 
as  the  old  fellow  put  down  his  sixpence. 

"  It  would  be  but  justice,"  continued  Skillott,  with 
assumed  indifference.  "  They  have  had  too  many 
favors  to  turn  against  you,  and  they  certainly  cannot 
complain  if  made  to  pay  their  honest  debts." 

"I've  always  been  doin'  'em  favors,  and  lettin' 
'em  have  liquor  when  they  hadn't  any  money.  If 

they  don't  quit  their  foolin'  I'll  fix  'em,  d n  me  if 

1  don't.  Jud  Lane  knows  where  to  bite." 

"I  expect  Brayton  and  Howard  will  have  them 
lecturing  on  temperance  before  Saturday  night,"  said 
Skillott,  with  a  sneer,  ready  to  heap  ridicule  upon  the 
temperance  movement,  "  They'll  make  strong  men  ! 
—  ha,  ha!" 

"  Not  while  Lane's  liquor  is  in  'em,"  gravely  an- 
swered old  Barney  ;  "  too  much  pump  water." 

"  Kits,  you  old  bloat  have  n't  I  warned  you  to 
stop  your  devilish  stuff?  I  won't  stand  it." 

"  I  can't  stand  either,  half  the  time,  such  stuff," 
replied  Kits,  winking  waggishly  at  Lane. 

"  You  mustn't  turn  off  any  of  your  jokes  on  me." 


LIGHT   IN   A   DARK   PLACE.  273 

"It's  a  long  lane  that  has  no  turn,"  persisted  the 
half-drunken  wag.  Lane  was  maddened,  for  he  took 
the  drive  as  made  at  his  hump  back. 

"  You  ought  to  be  shot,  you  old  viper !  " 

"  Just  been  shot  —  in  the  neck.  'T  ain't  (hie)  — 
mortal,  though  ;  "  and  old  L^arney  attempted  to  stand 
steady  and  look  wise. 

"  You  drunken  old  cuss  !  you'd  better  join  in  Hal- 
ton's  gang,  you  feel  so  sharp." 

"  Been  one  of  Halton's  gang  this  five  years.  Ex- 
pect to • 

"  Hear  ye  !  hear  ye !  hear  ye  !  men  and  women  of 
Oakvale  !  The  trump  of  the  Lord  is  sounding,  and 
the  dead  are  coming  forth.  Ho  !  ye  enslaved  ones  ! 
Men  having  devils  and  dwelling  among  the  tombs  : 
there  is  hope  for  the  lost.  An  arm  mighty  to  save 
is  stretched  forth,  and  deliverance  is  near.  Hear  ye  ! 
hear  ye !  the  good  Samaritans  are  among  you.  Those 
who  have  been  among  thieves  shall  be  washed  and 
healed.  Drunkards  who  have  squandered  all  in  riot- 
ous living,  and  hungered  for  the  husks  fed  to  the 
swine :  we  bid  you  return.  There  is  bread  enough 
and  to  spare  —  hallelujah  to  God  !  and  there  shall  be 
singing  and  rejoicing  in  the  land,  for  the  lost  are 
found.  Ho !  dwellers  in  the  dark  places !  Come 
forth.  The  commissioned  of  the  Lord  bringeth  you 
glad  tidings.  He  will  break  your  bonds  and  bid  the 
captive  go  free.  Drunkards !  come  out  from  the  dens 
of  prey.  Let  the  licensed  buzzards  starve  for  the 
want  of  human  carrion.  God's  judgments  are  close 


274  MISNIE   HERMON. 

upon  them,  and  sure  and  swift  destruction  upon  them . 
and  theirs.  Ho !  ye  that  thirst,  come  !  I  come  to 
bear  you  the  holy  truths  of  the  temperance  reform. 
There  is  light  in  the  dark  places,  and  the  waste  ones 
are  made  glad.  The  gospel  is  preached  to  the  poor, 
and  the  blind  ones  are  made  to  see. 

"  We  're  coming,  we  're  coming,  the  sober  and  free, 
Like  the  winds  of  the  desert,  the  waves  of  the  sea ; 
True  sons  of  brave  sires,  who  battled  of  yore, 
When  England's  red  lion  roar'd  wild  on  our  shore. 

We  're  coming,  we  're  coming,  from  mountain  and  glen, 
With  hands  that  are  steady  —  we're  freemen  again  ; 
Let  Alcohol  tremble  as  't  ne'er  trembled  before, 
For  we  swear  by  Great  Heaven  to  drink  it  no  more  I  " 

Jud  Lane  fairly  raved  when  he  recognized  the  voice 
of  the  man  in  the  long  coat.  That  personage  had 
mounted  the  horse-block  by  the  sign-post.  There  was 
something  strangely  wild  in  his  person  and  manner. 
His  tall  form  was  erect,  his  hat  off,  and  his  long  hair 
swaying  in  the  wind.  With  one  hand  upon  the  staff 
and  the  other  extended  with  the  long  finger  quiver- 
ing, his  eye  half  tender  and  half  fierce,  his  coat  but- 
toned to  the  throat,  and  his  beard  hanging  upon  his 
breast,  his  aspect  was  singularly  striking  and  impres- 
sive. His  voice  was  in  keeping  ;  now  tremulous  with 
a  tear,  and  again  rising  into  a  wail,  or  howling  with 
terrible  energy,  as  his  invective,  unequalled  in  bitter- 
ness and  strength,  fell  fierce  and  scathing  upon  all 
connected  with  the  rum  traffic.  There  was  awe  in 


LIGHT  IN   A   DARK  PLACE.  275 

his  impassioned  and  hazardous  eloquence,  and  beams 
of  unearthly  light  seemed  literally  to  shoot  from  his 
eye  when  he  towered  in  passion.  With  clenched 
teeth  and  burning  cheeks,  the  dealers  shrank  from  his 
gaze  and  blistering  speech.  Clear  and  swelling  like 
a  trumpet's  tone,  his  voice  rang  out  and  crowds  gath- 
ered to  hear  and  to  see  him.  There  was  something 
unaccountably  fascinating  in  his  half-mad  harangues. 
His  sneer,  when  pouring  sarcasm  upon  the  dealers, 
was  as  withering  as  the  sarcasm  itself.  But  when  he 
appealed  to  the  drunkards,  a  smile  like  sunlight  would 
melt  every  feature  into  wondrous  beauty.  Step  by 
step  the  crowd,  drunkards  included,  would  gather 
closer  to  the  man,  as  if  drawn  by  some  unseen  power. 
Even  Jud  Lane  could  not  keep  from  looking  from  the 
hall  out  upon  the  speaker.  "With  all  the  severity  of 
the  man's  speech,  and  the  bitterness  of  his  personal 
assaults,  there  was  blended  a  world  of  truth  and 
tender,  moving  pathos.  He  never  spared  the  dealer, 
nor  even  gave  them  credit  for  a  single  redeeming 
trait.  It  seemed  to  delight  him  to  lance  them  with- 
out mercy.  From  appeals  of  the  most  gentle  and 
mournful  earnestness,  he  would  turn,  as  his  eye  caught 
sight  of  one  of  them,  and,  as  if  startled  by  the  sound 
of  a  rattlesnake,  hiss  sweeping  imprecations  upon 
them  and  their  business,  between  his  clenched  teeth 
and  pallid  lips.  He  believed  himself  commissioned 
by  the  Lord  to  "smite  the  monster"  in  his  strong 
places.  Some  secret  and  unknown  cause  of  hatrecl 
to  the  rum  traffic  and  those  employed  in  it,  with  wild 


276  MINNIE  HERMON. 

religions  frenzy  and  deep  natural  enthusiasm,  gave 
his  impetuous  eloquence,  and  with  reason,  the  cast  of 
fanaticism.  His  denunciations  of  wine  bibbers  and 
drinking  church-members  and  priests,  were  bold  and 
merciless. 

Jud  Lane  had  just  come  in  for  a  blast  which  blis- 
tered as  it  reached  the  raving  victim.  Turning  to  a 
drunken  Irishman,  the  landlord  offered  him  a  gallon 
of  rum  if  he  would  go  around  between  the  shed  and 
the  house  and  hurl  a  dozen  of  eggs  at  the  speaker. 
Pat  was  just  drunk  enough  to  eagerly  agree  to  the 
proposition.  The  "  crazy  preacher,"  as  he  was  called, 
had  just  finished  the  two  verses  we  have  quoted,  and 
the  melody  of  the  wild  and  stirring  air  yet  lingered 
in  the  hearts  of  the  crowd,  when  an  egg  crashed 
against  the  sign-post  close  by  his  head.  A  freezing 
sneer  crept  over  his  face  as  he  turned  his  eye  in  the 
direction  from  whence  the  missile  came. 

"  Ho!  ho  !  friends.  Here  are  arguments  upon  the 
other  side  of  the  house.  Better  send  us  their  eggs 
than  their  liquor.  If  the  wretch  who  reared  this  post 
would  smear  it  with  human  blood  instead  of  yolk,  the 
argument  would  be  better  put  and  more  appropriate. 
Blood  is  upon  their  sign-posts,  their  thresholds,  and 
their  counters.  It  is  upon  their  hands  and  their 
hearts.  But  vengeance  is  mine,  saith  the  Lord,  and 
the  widows'  and  children's  wrongs  shall  be  avenged. 
Ha,  ha !  another  of  their  arguments,  and  applied  to  a 
subject,  too.  (The  egg  hit  old  Barney.]  But  better 
on  your  coat,  brother,  than  the  man's  poison  in  your 


LIGHT   IN  A   DAKK   PLACE.  277 

heart.  The  monsters  writhe,  for  their  power  is  de- 
parting from  them."  There  was  a  shout  from  the 
boys,  and  a  crash  of  boards  under  the  shed.  In  step- 
ping back  from  the  shed  window,  as  he  hurled  the 
second  egg,  Pat  trod  upon  a  short  board  and  fell 
through  to  the  ground. 

"  And  so  shall  tire  traffic  fall  to  the  ground,  and 
those  engaged  in  it.  Their  arguments  cannot  sustain 
them." 

The  fall  was  a  serious  matter  with  Pat,  for  he  had 
broken  an  arm  and  a  leg,  and  was  groaning  with  pain. 
The  preacher  was  quickly  by  his  side,  and  without 
assistance  bore  him  into  the  bar-room.  Jud  Lane 
stood  cowering  like  a  spirit  of  evil  in  his  bar  at  the 
turn  things  had  taken  and  the  comments  freely  made 
by  some  in  the  crowd.  It  was  in  his  heart  to  turn 
the  whole  company  out  of  doors.  Pat  begged  for 
rum,  and  while  the  preacher  was  after  Howard, 
Lane  drew  a  glass  and  carried  it  to  him,  but  as  it  was 
lifted  to  Pat's  lips,  the  long  staff  of  the  Hermit,  as  the 
preacher  was  called,  swooped  down  and  dashed  it  into 
fragments. 

"  Away  with  your  poison  !  A  broken  arm  and  leg 
are  enough.  Hand  him  rum  at  your  peril,  Jud  Lane. 
Before  God  I  will  serve  you  as  I  have  the  glass. 
Stand  back!" 

Stooping  down,  the  Hermit  again  lifted  Pat  in  his 
arms,  and  bore  him  out  and  away  from  the  "  River 
Hotel "  to  Howard's  office.  As  he  came  out,  he  again 
addressed  the  crowd  vho  followed,  making  effective 


278  MINNIE   HEKMON. 

use  of  the  circumstance.  Jud  Lane  had  made  Pat 
drunk  ;  Pat  had  fallen  and  broken  his  limbs  in  con- 
sequence, and  the  people  must  support  him  through 
his  sickness.  Shaking  his  long  staff  towards  Lane's 
tavern,  he  broke  forth  in  a  torrent  of  fierce  invectives. 
As  he  saw  Skillott  taking  notes  of  his  remarks,  he 
turned  his  attention  to  that  functionary,  and  lashed 
him  in  unmeasured  terms.  He  then  announced  that 
a  temperance  meeting  would  be  held  in  the  Hall  that 
evening,  to  be  addressed  by  a  reformed  drunkard, 
and  urged  all  to  attend.  Then  breaking  out  in  the 
familiar  air  of  "Come  to  the  Temperance  Hall,"  he 
passed  through  the  crowd  and  up  the  street.  Upon 
the  steps  of  the  " Home"  and  so  through  the  whole 
village,  he  went  with  staff  and  song,  and  impassioned 
harangue,  heralding  the  meeting  and  denouncing  the 
rum  traffic.  His  vast  muscular  strength  and  glisten- 
ing eye  deterred  the  enraged  dealers  from  an  open 
attack  upon  his  person. 


!S,    .  fie 

"MORTIMEB  HUDSON  SIGNING  THE  PLEDGE. 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

WASHINGTONIANISM THE   OLD   MASf's   STORY. 


THE  tide  of  the  new  movement  was  rising  with  un- 
exampled velocity  and  power.  From  the  very  dens 
of  the  enemy,  the  Washingtonians  came  forth,  fully 
armed  and  fired  with  enthusiastic  zeal.  From  the 
ranks  of  the  enslaved,  reformed  men  came  forth  and 
became  for  the  time  the  standard-bearers  of  the  re- 
form. The  song,  and  the  rude  though  earnest  appeal, 
with  the  dark  details  of  personal  experience  in  the 
thraldom  of  ruin,  assumed  a  deep  and  thrilling  inter- 
est, and  crowds  flocked  to  hear  the  story.  From  gut- 
ter, hovel,  den,  and  steaming  pit,  men  came  forth  to 
soberness  and  honor.  In  every  community  the  flame 
was  kindled.  Angels  were  found  sitting  at  the  grave?, 
of  men's  drunkenness,  and  as  the  stone  was  rolled 
away,  the  living  came-forth  to  happiness  and  home. 
The  land  was  filled  with  rejoicing.  The  wife  and 
mother  watched  the  commotion  with  prayers  and 
hopeful  tears,  and  the  citizen  looked  bewildered.  An 
angel  was  in  the  waters  and  lepers  were  healed. 
Many  believed  that  intemperance  was  to  be  driven  at 
once  from  the  land.  The  rumsellers — such  as  con- 
tinued in  the  business  —  became  more  reckless  and 
desperate  than  ever,  and  only  rejoiced  when  those  who 


282  MINNIE   HERMON. 

had  taken  the  pledge  were  decoyed  again  to  destruc- 
tion. 

Oakvale  was  alive  with  the  excitement,  and  its 
dealers  boiling  with  fear  and  rage.  The  Hermit  had 
planted  some  tremendous  blows  upon  the  enemy,  and 
had  snatched  away  many  of  their  best  customers. 
His  announcement  of  the  evening  meeting  had  in- 
creased the  interest  to  the  highest  degree,  and  before 
dark,  crowds  of  people  were  pouring  down  the  streets 
to  the  Hall. 

Groups  of  people  gathered  on  the  steps  of  the  tav- 
erns and  saloons,  and  were  drinking  in  the  bar-rooms 
to  keep  their  courage  up.  Now  and  then  a  drunken 
man  came  reeling  out  of  them,  and  the  coarse  jest  and 
boisterous  laugh  told  the  character  of  the  parties. 

Monsieur  Ladeaux,  an  old  Frenchman,  kept  one  of 
the  most  frequented  dram-shops  in  Oakvale.  Every- 
thing around  the  establishment  was  arranged  admira- 
bly to  render  it  attractive  and  inviting.  Politicians 
made  the  "  Alhambra "  their  nightly  resort,  and  tit 
its  bar  the  extremes  of  society  met  in  the  fraternal 
circle  of  tippling. 

Our  readers  may  have  seen  the  counterpart  of 
Monsieur.  He  was  stoutly  built  and  fleshy,  his  neck 
thick,  features  coarse,  heavy  and  sensual,  person 
stooping,  and  a  shambling,  leaning  gait,  like  a  man 
looking  for  a  penny  on  the  walk.  His  soul  was  not 
like  other  men's  souls.  He  was  as  senseless,  save  in 
his  pocket,  as  the  pavement  on  which  he  trod.  But 
two  emotions  —  those  of  avarice  and  gluttony  —  ever 


283 

stirred  his  sluggish  nature.  Honor,  conscience  or 
pride,  he  was  an  utter  stranger  to.  He  deemed  men, 
women,  and  children,  his  legitimate  prey.  Whatever 
he  could  do  without  fear  of  fine,  imprisonment  or 
hanging,  he  would  do  for  money.  Had  murder 
been  licensed,  he  would  as  readily  butcher  all  who 
crossed  his  threshold:  No  good  interest  in  communi- 
ity  ever  received  his  attention,  countenance,  or  a  far- 
thing of  support.  He  was  never  known  to  exhibit 
feeling,  save  when  his  interest  was  assailed.  The  boy 
that  reached  tiptoe  for  the  cent's  worth  of  beer,  was 
just  as  welcome  a  customer  as  the  citizen  of  mature 
years.  Had  every  one  who  went  out  from  his  rooms 
fell  dead  in  the  street,  his  regrets  would  have  been  in 
proportion  to  his  loss  of  custom.  Moral  influences 
fell  as  inefficiently  from  his  mail  of  animal  selfish- 
ness, as  they  would  from  the  Pagan  idol  of  wood  or 
stone. 

Among  those  who  were  drinking  on  the  evening  of 
the  meeting,  was  a  young  man  of  about  twenty-three 
years.  He  was  a  mechanic  in  the  place,  and  without 
friends.  None  had  yielded  more  blindly  —  madly  to 
the  bowl,  or  plunged  more  deeply  into  its  many  in- 
iquities. "With  quick  and  pungent  wit,  a  voice  of 
wondrous  sweetness  and  compass,  and  a  power  of 
mimicry  unsurpassed,  he  became  the  ruling  spirit  of 
the  drunken  revel.  His  liquor  cost  him  nothing.  A 
song,  or  a  speech,  or  a  story,  would  always  bring  both 
applause  and  liquor.  There  was  quite  a  competition 

among  the  dram-shops  for  his  presence. 
12 


234:    -  MINNIE    HEKMON. 

The  youth  was  but  a  wreck.  His  potations  were 
deep  and  incessantly  poured  down.  His  face  \ias  of 
a  fiery  red,  and  his  long  hair  coarse  and  matted.  A 
soiled  and  broken-down  hat  sat  back  upon  his  head 
with  a  dare-devil  manner,  his  pantaloons  begrimmed 
with  dirt,  and  his  boots  running  over  at  the  heels,  and 
full  of  holes,  the  bare,  stockingless  feet  exposed  to  the 
weather.  The  ragged  coat  was  buttoned  to  the  throat, 
indicating  a  lingering  pride  which  tried  to  conceal 
the  utter  absence  of  a  shirt.  A  dirty  comforter  was 
wound  loosely  around  the  neck,  and  the  ends  tucked 
under  the  coat.  The  people  in  the  saloon  had  just 
put  him  upon  the  counter,  where  he  was  making  a 
temperance  speech.  His  wit;  inimitable  drollery,  and 
ludicrous  flights  of  burlesque  eloquence,  had  put  the 
crowd  in  a  roar.  Those  present  had  furnished  Gault 
with  a  bottle  of  rum,  and  -were  calculating  upon  a 
high  time  at  the  temperance  meeting,  for  he  had 
promised  '  to  make  a  speech  there.  In  the  height  of 
their  mirth,  Brayton,  Halton,  and  the  Hermit  enter 
ed.  As  many  bombs  would  not  have  produced  a 
greater  impression  upon  the  customers  of  Ladeaux. 

"  Come  down,  John  Gault,  we  want  you  to  go  with 
us.  We  '11  do  you  good." 

"  This  will  do  me  good,  H-  (hie)  -  Halton."  Gauit 
tipped  up  his  bottle,  his  eye  turning  comically  down 
upon  Halton.  Then  thrusting  his  tongue  into  his 
cheek,  and  rolling  one  eye  up  one  way  and  the  other 
another,  a  trick  he  was  familiar  with,  he  assumed  a 
theatrical  attitude,  and  exclaimed : 


WASHINGTONIANISM.  285 

"Como  one,  come  all;  this  bar  shall  fly 

From  its  firm  base  as  —  as  SOOL  as  —  hie  — h'i." 

A  few  tittered,  but  hushed  again,  as  the  low  and 
thrilling  tones  of  the  Hermit's  voice  trembled  like 
winning  music  above  the  coarser  sounds.  Gault  stood 
like  one  fascinated  under  the  appeals.  Slowly  the 
extended  arm  and  bottle  lowered  to  the  side,  and  with 
the  other  on  his  hip,  he  stood  leaning  forward  and 
gazing  into  the  eye  of  the  Hermit.  The  latter  had 
extended  his  hand,  and  his  eye  rested  full  and  search- 
ingly  upon  Gault.  Save  Monsieur  Ladeaux,  all  were 
hushed  as  the  strange  man  plead  with  the  drunkard. 
There  was  a  tender  melancholy  in  'his  tones  which 
charmed  the  roughest  listener.  Gault  was  as  com- 
pletely in  his  power  as  if  bound  by  a  spell. 

"  Lost !  "  he  exclaimed,  with  a  sigh,  and  plunged 
forward  into  the  arms  of  the  Hermit. 

"  Saved  !  John  Gault !  We  will  snatch  you  from 
the  very  jaws  of  the  enemy.  Your  friends  are  not 
here,  John  Gault.  Go  with  us.  We  bid  you  come. 
You  shall  sit  among  the  redeemed,  clothed  and  in 
your  right  mind.  Come  !  " 

Gault  trembled  from  head  to  foot.  Skillott  ven- 
tured to  question  this  summary  way  of  forcing  men 
into  the  temperance  movement.  With  a  gesture  of 
scorn,  not  unmixed  with  dignity,  the  Hermit  waved 
the  counselor  back,  and  again  urged  Gault  to  go  with 
them.  Brayton  stepped  forward  and  took  him  by  the 
arm.  While  he  was  hesitating,  the  Hermit  sang  a 
verse — 


366  MINNIE   HERMON. 

Sadly  rcy  wife  bowed  her  beautiful  bead, 

Long  ago,  long  ago ; 
Ob,  how  I  wept  when  I  heard  she  was  dead, 

Long  ago,  long  ago  ; 

She  was  an  angel,  my  joy  and  my  pride ; 
Vainly  to  save  me  from  ruin  she  tried ; 
Poor  broken  heart!  it  was  well  that  she  Jied, 

Long  ago,  long  ago. 

The  words,  feathered  with  plaintive  melody  most 
sweetly  sung,  went  to  the  heart  of  Gault.  His  young 
and  lovely  wife  had  just  gone  to  her  pauper  grave, 
injured  and  broken-hearted,  leaving  him  alone  to  go 
more  rapidly  down  the  road  to  ruin.  A  tear  swam 
upon  his  red  lid,  and  dropped  upon  the  cheek.  An- 
other and  another  followed.  Gault  was  conquered. 
Clutching  the  Hermit  firmly  by  the  arm,  he  yielded 
to  his  guidance,  and  with  Brayton  and  Halton  be- 
hind, passed  out  of  the  Alhambra. 

The  more  ignorant  expected  fun  ;  but  Skillott  saw 
the  strong  influence  at  work  upon  the  drunkards,  and 
was  troubled.  In  his  political  dreaming,  he  had  cal- 
culated much  upon  their  cheaply  bought  suffrages. 

As  the  four  entered  the  Hall,  they  found  every  part 
of  it  densely  packed  with  people,  and  the  throng  still 
pouring  into  the  vestibule.  As  dense  as  was  the 
crowd,  it  opened  both  ways  before  the  Hermit  and 
his  long  stall*,  and  with  Gault,  Halton  and  Brayton 
in  his  wake,  that  personage  strode  down  towards  the 
platform.  Gault  shrank  back,  however,  and  Halton 
procured  him  a  seat  and  stood  beside  him.  Large 
drot)3  of  sweat  stood  thickly  on  Gault's  face,  and  he 


WASHINGTONIAJaSM.  287 

avoided  every  eye  as  much  as  possible,  where  he  sat. 
A  sea  of  heads  was  constantly  turning  towards  the 
doors  to  catch  sight  of  the  speakers.  Elder  Snyder 
stole  in  around  the  wall  aisle,  and  took  his  seaUbe- 
hind  a  pillar  under  the  gallery,  as  if  doubtful  of  the 
propriety  of  attending  such  a  meeting.  For  an  hour 
the  crowd  continued  to  pour  in,  still  finding  room  to 
stand.  In  the  corner  seats  were  a  number  of  rum- 
sellers  and  their  friends,  they  having  heard  that  John 
Gault  was  to  carry  a  bottle  and  address  the  meeting. 
The  more  intelligent  ones  looked  grave,  the  brutes 
scowled,  and  the  simple  put  on  a  knowing  leer,  try- 
ing to  express  their  contempt  of  the  whole  affair. 

Two  men,  at  last,  came  in,  and  with  much  difficulty 
reached  the  platform.  All  eyes  were  fixed  upon 
them,  and  that  immense  audience  was  hushed  into 
stillness.. 

The  men  were  unlike  in  appearance  —  the  one  be- 
ing short,  thick-set  in  his  build,  the  other  tall  and  ex- 
ceedingly well-formed.  The  younger  had  the  manner 
and  address  of  a  clergyman,  a  full,  round  face,  and  a 
quiet,  good-natured  look,  as  he  leisurely  glanced 
around  upon  the  audience. 

But  the  interest  all  centered  on  the  old  man.  His 
broad,  deep  chest  and  unusual  height  looked  giant- 
like as  he  swayed  slowly  up  the  aisle.  His  hair  was 
white,  his  brow  deeply  seamed  with  furrows,  and 
around  his  handsome  mouth  lines  of  decision,  thought 
and  sadness.  His. eye  was  black  and  restless,  and 
kindled  for  the  moment  as  the  tavern-keeper  nearest 


288  MINNIE   HERMON. 

mm  uttered  a  low  jest  aloud.     His  lips  were  com- 
pressed, and  a  crimson  flush  came  upon  and  went 
from  his  pale  cheek.     There  was  a  wide  scar  over  the 
ight  eye. 

The  younger  finally  arose  and  asked  if  there  was  a 
clergyman  present  who  would  open  with  prayer. 
Not  one  answered  to  the  invitation.  The  rumsellers 
ventured  a  titter.  This  started  the  Hermit.  Advan- 
cing to  the  front  of  the  stage,  he  looked  steadily  and 
not  unkindly  around  over  the  audience,  finally  resting 
a  less  winning  gaze  upon  the  corner  where  the  deal- 
ers had  centered.  Stretching  his  long  arm  out  over 
the  people,  he  broke  forth  in  an  invocation  which  was 
as  appropriate  as  forcible  and  solemn.  At  its  close, 
he  sang  an  ode  as  none  other  could  have  sung  it.  Its 
melting  tenderness  stole  over  the  audience  like  a 
dream,  and  prepared  them  for  the  truths  to  follow. 

The  younger  speaker  made  but  a  short  address  — 
calm,  dignified  and  appropriate,  setting  forth  the 
claims  of  the  Washingtonian  cause,  and  urging  all 
who  wished  well  to  humanity  to  join  in  it.  At  the 
conclusion  of  the  meeting,  he  hoped  to  see  the  name 
of  every  one  present  appended  to  the  pledge.  As  he 
concluded,  he  called  upon  any  one  present  to  speak — 
hoped  to  hear  remarks  for  or  against. 

"  Shut  up,  you  old  nuisance,"  muttered  Jud  Lane, 
as  old  Barney  punched  him  to  get  up. 

"  Give  'em  the  dingbats  —  swear  at  'em,  Jud," 
whispered  Barney. 

All  eyes  were  turned  in  another  direction.     The 


WASHINGTONIANISM.  289 

pastor  under  the  gallery  arose  with  more  than  ordina- 
ry dignity,  and  attacked  the  positions  of  the  speaker. 
He  used  the  current  arguments  of  those  opposed  to 
the  temperance  measures,  and  concluded  by  denoun- 
cing those  engaged  in  them,  as  meddlesome  fanatics 
having  zeal  without  knowledge  —  men  who  wished  to 
break  up  the  time-honored  usages  of  good  society, 
lake  the  interests  of  the  moral  world  out  of  the  hands 
of  the  church,  and  injure  the  business  of  a  very  large 
class  of  worthy  and  respectable  people.  Simultane- 
ously the  dealers  and  their  friends,  and  the  aristocra- 
cy of  the  village  applauded  the  pastor.  As  he  took 
his  seat  he  put  his  hair  back  with  dignity,  and  looked 
over  the  room,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  nothing  for  me  to 
make  that  speech !  "  The  feeling  was  evidently  turn- 
ing against  the  strangers,  for  Snyder  had  cunningly 
shaped  his  remarks  to  undermine  the  public  confi- 
dence in  their  character  as  "  public  teachers."  The 
very  fact  that  one  of  them  had  been  a  drunkard  wa8 
against  him.  And  besides,  a  prayer  had  been  made 
by  one  whom  he  did  not  recognize  as  a  minister  of 
God.  He  cautioned  the  people  against  being  led 
astray  by  fanatics  and  false  teachers. 

The  Hermit's  eye  flashed,  and  with  a  pale  lip  he 
grasped  his  staff  fiercely.  Slowly  rising  to  his  full 
height,  he  pointed  towards  where  Elder  Snyder  had 
drawn  his  cloak  around  him,  and  broke  out  in  a  tor- 
rent of  withering  denunciation.  So  sudden  and 
sweeping  was  the  onslaught  that  the  more  tim- 
id had  hardly  time  to  be  shocked  before  the  last 


290  MINNIE    HERMON. 

barb  had  been  sped.  The  manner  of  the  man  was 
terrible. 

"  False  teacher !  "  hissed  the  Hermit  between  his 
clenched  teeth,  yet  plainly  heard  in  every  part  of  the 
hall.  "  False  teacher !  and  this  from  one  who  turned 
his  own  erring  ones  from  his  hearth,  and  sent  them 
away  with  curses.  One  who  himself  taught  his  chil- 
dren to  sip  the  accursed  poison !  One  who  has  set  an 
example  which  has  sent  his  own  parishioners  to  the 
grave  and  to  perdition  !  One  who,  by  the  grave  of 
two  who  died  broken-hearted,  still  advocates  the  foul 
sin  which  destroyed  them.  One  who  prays  for  the 
poor  and  the  needy,  and  at  the  same  time  casts  his 
influence  for  that  which  robs  the  poor  and  needy,  and 
sends  out  the  children  to  beg  for  bread.  One  who 
would  hedge  Heaven  against  us  because  we  have 
once  sinned  as  he  is  this  day  influencing  others  to  sin. 
One  whose  gospel  never  says  to  the  returning  peni- 
tent, '  Go  and  sin  no  more ! '  One  who  dishonors 
his  profession  by  preaching  our  land  full  of  paupers 
and  felons,  our  graves  full  of  dead  men,  and  hell  with 
souls  that  are  damned !  Go  !  false  one  !  and  preach 
the  gospel  of  righteousness,  temperance,  and  a  judg- 
ment to  come,  or  else  the  viper  shall  return  to  sting 
the  hand  that  sends  it  forth,  and  the  vultures  shall 
pick  the  bones  of  him  who  stays  the  chariot  wheels 
of  the  Lord !  " 

A  chill  crept  over  the  whole  audience.  The  man- 
ner of  the  speaker  was  even  more  bold  and  startling 
than  his  words.  With  his  eye  full  upon  the  pastor, 


THE   OLD   MAN'S    STORY.  201 

he  slowly  retreated  to  the  back  of  the  stage  and  took 
his  seat. 

During  the  assault,  the  old  man  on  the  platform 
had  watched  the  hermit  with  a  kindling  eye,  leaning 
forward  to  catch  every  word.  As  he  arose,  his  form, 
as  tall  as  the  Hermit's,  and  better  proportioned,  tow- 
ered in  most  commanding  dignity,  and  his  chest 
swelled  as  lie  inhaled  his  breath  through  his  thin  nos- 
trils. There  was  something  grand  and  inspiring  in 
the  appearance  of  the  old  man  as  he  stood  looking 
upon  the  audience,  his  teeth  hard  shut,  and  a  silence 
like  that  of  death  throughout  the  Hall.  He  bent  his 
gaze  full  upon  Hermon,  who  sat  immediately  before 
him,  and  as  his  eye  lingered  for  a  moment,  the  scar 
upon  his  forehead  grew  an  angry  red,  and  from  be- 
neath his  shaggy  brows  his  eye  glowed  with  meaning 
fire.  Hermon  quailed  under  the  gaze.  He  at  last 
commenced,  in  low  and  tremulous  tones.  There  was 
a  depth  in  this  voice  —  a  thrilling  sweetness  and  pa- 
thos, which  riveted  every  heart  in  the  Hall  before  the 
first  period  had  been  rounded.  Immediately  under 
the  platform  and  a  little  in  advance  of  the  speaker, 
sat  young  Mortimer  Hudson,  manifesting  an  interest 
which  he  had  never  before  exhibited  at  a  temperance 
meeting. 

"  If  I  were  a  stranger  in  your  village,  I  should  dare 
to  call  you  friends.  As  I  once  lived  in  your  midst,  I 
trust  I  may  call  you  all  so." 

There  was  a  sensation,  and  whispered  inquiries  of 
"  Who  can  it  be  ? "  With  a  thrilling  depth  of  voice, 


292  MINNIE  HERMON. 

the  speaker  locked  his  hands  together,  and  contin- 
ued: 

"A  new  star  has  arisen,  and  there  is  hope  in  the 
dark  night  which  hangs  like  a  pall  of  gloom  over  the 
country.  O  God  !  thou  who  lookest  with  compas- 
sion upon  the  most  erring  of  earth's  frail  children,  I 
thank  thee  that  a  brazen  serpent  has  been  lifted,  upon 
which  the  drunkard  can  look  and  be  healed ;  that  a 
beacon  has  burst  out  upon  the  darkness  which  sur- 
rounds him,  which  shall  guide  back  to  honor  and  to 
Heaven,  the  bruised  and  weary  wanderer." 

Strange, .  the  power  in  human  voices  !  The  speak- 
er's was  low  and  measured  ;  but  a  tear  trembled  in 
every  tone,  and  before  they  knew  why,  tears  were 
dropping  in  the  audience  like  rain-drops.  The  old 
man  brushed  one  from  his  own  eye  and  continued : 

-"Men  and  Christians  !  You  have  just  heard  that  I 
may  be  —  probably  am  —  a  vagrant  and  fanatic.  I 
am  not.  As  God  knows  my  own  sad  heart,  I  came 
here  to  do  good.  The  graves  of  my  kindred  are  here. 
My  childhood  was  spent  here.  My  manhood  was  de- 
stroyed here.  Hear  me  and  be  just. 

"  I  am  an  old  man,  standing  alone  at  the  end  of 
life's  journey.  There  is  deep  sorrow  in  my  heart,  and 
bitter  tears  in  my  eyes.  I  have  journeyed  over  a 
dark,  beaconiess  ocean,  and  all  life's  bright  hopes  have 
been  wrecked.  I  am  without  friends,  home  or  kin- 
dred, on  earth,  and  look  with  eager  longing  for  the 
rest  of  the  night  of  death  —  without  friends,  kindred 
or  home  !  It  was  not  so  once !  " 


THE  OLD  MAN'S  STORY.  293 

No  one  could  withstand  the  touching  pathos  of  the 
;>ld  man.  The  audience  was  under  his  control. 

"  No,  my  friends,  it  was  not  so  once.  Away  over 
the  dark  and  treacherous  waste  which  has  wrecked 
all  my  hopes,  there  is  the  blessed  light  of  happiness 
and  home.  I  grasp  again  convulsively  for  the  shrines 
of  the  household  idols  that  once  were  mine,  now 
mine  no  more." 

The  speaker  seemed  looking  away  through  space 
upon  some  bright  vision,  his  lips  apart,  and  his  finger 
extended.  The  audience  involuntarily  turned  in  the 
direction  where  the  speaker  was  looking,  as  if  ex* 
pecting  to  see  some  shadow  called  before  them. 

"  I  once  had  a  mother.  With  her  old  heart  crushed 
with  sorrows,  she  went  down  to  her  grave.  I  once 
had  a  wife ;  a  fair,  angel-hearted  creature  as  ever 
smiled  in  an  earthly  home.  Her  eye  was  as  mild  as 
a  summer  sky,  and  her  heart  as  faithful  and  true  as 
ever  cherished  a  husband's  love,  or  clung  to  him 
when  fallen.  Her  blue  eye  grew  dim  as  floods  of 
sorrow  washed  out  its  brightness,  and  the  loving  heart 
I  wrung  until  every  fibre  was  rudely  broken.  I  once 
had  a  babe,  a  sweet,  tender  blossom  ;  but  these  hands 
destroyed  it,  and  it  lives  with  One  who  loveth  chil- 
dren. I  once  had  a  noble,  a  brave  and  beautiful 
boy  ;  but  he  was  driven  out  from  the  ruins  of  his 
childhood  home,  and  I  know  not  if  he  yet  lives. 

"  Do  not  be  startled,  friends  ;  I  am  not  a  murderer 
in  the  common  acceptation  of  the  term.  I  am  guilty 
of  much,  but  there  is  light  in  my  evening  sky.  A 


294  MINNIE   HERMON. 

spirit  mother  rejoices  over  the  return  of  her  prodigal 
ion.  The  wife  smiles  upon  him  who  again  turns 
back  to  virtue  and  honor.  The  angel  child  visits  me 
at  nightfall,  and  I  feel  the  hallowing  touch  of  a  tiny 
palm  upon  my  fevered  cheek.  My  brave  boy,  if  liv- 
ing, would  forgive  the  sorrowing  old  man  for  the 
treatment  that  drove  him  out  into  the  world,  and  the 
blow  which  maimed  him  for  life.  God  Almighty  in 
Heaven  !  forgive  me  for  the  ruin  I  have  brought  upon 
me  and  mine  !  " 

The  speaker  again  wiped  a  tear  from  his  eye.  Mor- 
timer Hudson  watched  him  with  a  strange  intensity, 
and  with  a  countenance  pale  with  strong  and  unusual 
emotion. 

"  I  once  was  a  fanatic,  and  madly  followed  the  ma- 
lign light  which  led  me  to  ruin.  I  was  a  fanatic 
when  I  sacrificed  my  wife,  children,  happiness  and 
hope  to  the  accursed  demon  of  the  bowl.  I  was  a 
fanatic  when  I  broke  the  heart  and  sent  to  the  grave 
the  gentle  being  whom  I  injured  so  deeply. 

"  I  was  a  drunkard  !  From  respectability  and  op- 
ulence, I  plunged  into  degradation  and  poverty.  I 
dragged  my  family  down  with  me.  For  years  I  saw 
my  wife's  cheek  pale,  and  her  step  grow  weary.  I 
left  her  alone  amid  the  wreck  of  her  home  idols,  and 
rioted  at  the  tavern.  She  never  complained,  though 
she  and  the  children  went  hungry  for  bread. 

"  One  New  Year's  night,  I  left  the  midnight  revel 
at  the  tavern,  for  the  hut  where  charity  had  given  113 
a  shelter.  Deeply  intoxicated,  I  reached  about  half 


THE  OLD  MAN'S  STOKY.  295 

the  distance,  and  yielded  to  the  intense  cold  of  the 
storm,  and  lay  down  upon  the  drifts,  with  the  slum- 
ber of  drunkenness  and  death  upon  me.  My  wife, 
a  frail,  poorly  clad  creature  had  become  alarmed 
about  me,  and  ventured  out  in  the  storm  to  seek  me. 
She  found  me,  insensible  with  cold.  She  stretched 
her  body  upon  mine,  and  with  her  own  heat  warmed 
the  chilling  blood  in  my  veins,  and  saved  me  from 
freezing  and  death.  Struggling  until  she  raised  me 
to  my  feet,  she  started  me  home,  bidding  rne  rest  not 
for  life  until  I  reached  home.  Arriving  there,  I 
found  the  babe  wailing  in  the  arms  of  the  boy,  who 
was  vainly  attempting  to  hush  it.  I  felt  the  demon 
in  every  vein,  and  snatching  it  from  his  arms  with  a 
curse,  I  hurled  it  upon  the  coals !  " 

The  speaker  buried  his  face  in  his  hands,  and  the 
audience  were  wound  up  to  breathless  excitement. 

"At  the  moment  the  mother  came  in,  and  like  a  ti- 
gress, sprang  and  snatched  the  child  from  its  tortures. 
Its  agonizing  shrieks  will  linger  in  my  ear  while  I 
live  !  I  demanded  food.  Mary  turned  her  gaze  sad- 
ly upon  me,  the  tears  falling  fast  upon  her  cheek. 

"  '  We  have  no  food,  James.  And,  merciful  heav- 
en !  must  murder  be  added  to  starvation  f ' 

"  That  sad,  pleading  face,  the  streaming  eyes  and 
the  wail  of  the  babe  maddened  me  ;  and  I  —  yes,  I — 
struck  her  a  fearful  blow  in  the  face,  and  she  fell  for- 
ward upon  the  hearth.  The  furies  of  hell  boiled  in 
my  bosom  with  .deeper  intensity  as  I  felt  that  I  had 
committed  a  wrong.  I  had  never  struck  Mary  be- 


296  MTSTNIE   HERMON. 

fore;  but  now  some  terrible  impulse  bore  me  oi\ 
and  I  stooped  down  as  well  as  I  could  in  my  drunk- 
en state,  and  clenched  both  hands  in  her  hair. 

" '  God  of  mercy,  James ! '  exclaimed  my  wife,  as 
she  looked  up  in  my  fiendish  countenance.  *  You 
will  not  kill  us.  Poor  "Willie,  he  must  die,'  and  she 
tried  to  soothe  the  little  sufferer  in  its  cruel  pains. 
I  could  not  bear  the  shrieks  of  the  child,  and  became 
f.irious.  Dragging  her  to  the  door  and  lifting  the 
latch,  the  wind  burst  in  with  a  cloud  of  snow.  With 
the  yell  of  a  fiend,  I  still  dragged  her  on  and  hurled 
her  out  into  the  darkness  and  the  storm.  With  a  wild 
ha !  ha !  I  closed  the  door  and  turned  the  button,  her 
pleading  moans  mingling  with  the  wail  of  the  blast, 
and  the  quick,  gasping  shrieks  of  the  babe.  But  the 
work  was  not  complete.  I  turned  to  the  bed  wheie 
my  son  had  hidden,  and  dragged  him  out.  He  clung 
to  my  knees,  and  called  me  by  a  name  I  was  unwor- 
thy to  bear.  My  eye  rested  upon  the  axe  in  the  cor- 
ner, and  I  grasped  it  with  the  determination  to  kill 
him.  The  boy  saw  the  act  and  sprang  for  a  window, 
where  a  blanket  was  the  only  protection  from  the 
storm.  As  he  sprang  out,  the  blow  I  leveled  at  his 
head  fell  upon  the  sill,  and  severed  his  hand  from 
the  arm !  " 

The  speaker  ceased  a  moment,  and  buried  his  face 
in  his  hands,  as  if  to  shut  out  some  fearful  dream, 
and  his  deep  chest  heaved  like  a  stormy  sea.  Mor- 
timer Hudson  had  partially  .arisen,  his  countenance 
pale  and  ghastly,  and  he  sobbing  with  startling  emo 


THE   OLD   MAJtf's   STORY.  297 


tion.  The  old  man  shook  as  with  an  ague  chill,  and 
again  proceeded  : 

"  It  was  morning  when  I  awoke,  and  the  storm  had 
ceased,  but  the  cold  was  intense.  I  first  secured  a 
drink  of  water,  and  then  looked  in  the  accustomed 
place  for  Mary.  As  I  missed  her  for  the  first  time, 
a  shadowy  sense  of  some  horrible  nightmare  began 
to  dawn  upon  my  wandering  mind.  I  thought  that  I 
had  dreamed  a  fearful  dream,  and  involuntarily  opened 
the  door  with  a  shuddering  dread.  As  the  door 
opened  the  snow  burst  in,  followed  by  the  fall  of  a  hard 
body  across  the  threshold,  scattering  the  snow,  and 
striking  the  floor  with  a  sharp,  quick  sound.  My 
blood  shot  like  red-hot  arrows  through  my  veins,  and 
I  rubbed  my  eyes  to  shut  out  the  light.  It  was  —  it 
—  God,  how  terrible  !  —  it  was  my  own  injured  Mary 
and  her  babe,  frozen  to  ice  !  The  ever  true  mother 
had  bowed  herself  over  her  child  to  shield  it,  and 
wrapped  her  own  clothing  around  it,  leaving  her  own 
person  stark  and  bare  to  the  storm.  She  had  placed 
her  hair  over  the  face  of  the  child,  and  the  sleet  had 
frozen  it  to  the  white  cheek.  The  frost  was  white  in 
its  half-open  eyes,  and  upon  its  tiny  fingers.  I  know 
not  what  became  of  my  boy." 

Again  the  old  man  bowed  his  head  and  wept,  and 
all  in  the  house,  Jud  Lane  excepted,  wept  with  him. 
In  tones  of  low,  and  yet  far-reaching  pathos,  he  con- 
cluded : 

"  I  was  arrested,  and  for  months  raved  in  delirium. 
I  was  sent  to  prison  for  ten  years,  but  its  tortures 


298  MINNIE   HERMON. 

were  nothing  compared  to  those  in  ray  own  bosom. 
God  knows  I  am  not  a  fanatic.  I  wish  to  injure 
no  one.  But  while  I  live  let  me  strive  to  warn  others 
not  to  enter  the  path  which  has  been  so  dark  and  fear- 
ful to  me.  I  would  see  my  angel  wife  and  child  in 
the  better  land,  where,  God  Almighty  be  thanked 
no  rum  is  sold,  and  drunkenness  is  not.  If  there  is 
one  here  this  night  who  has  been  as  I  have  been,  let 
me  beseech  him,  as  a  brother  whom  I  love,  by  the 
dark  and  beaconless  past — by  all  that  is  yet  left  amid 
the  ruins  of  the  present,  and  all  that  man  can  hope 
for  in  the  future — let  him  come  and  sign  tlie  pledge. 
He  shall  again  stand  up  in  the  dignity  of  a  freeman, 
be  loved  by  his  family,  respected  again  by  society, 
and  honored  of  God.  Come,  ye  heavy-laden  and  wea- 
ry, sign  and  be  FREE  !  " 

The  old  man  sat  down ;  but  a  spell  as  deep  and 
strange  as  that  wrought  by  some  wizard's  breath, 
rested  upon  the  audience.  Hearts  could  have  been 
heard  to  beat,  and  tears  to  fall.  At  the  invitation  to 
sign  the  pledge,  the  Hermit  stepped  forward  and  sang, 
""When  is  the  time  to  sign."  The  effect  upon  the 
people  was  deepened,  and  as  Hal  ton  and  his  four  com- 
panions stood  up,  side  by  side,  and  with  right  arms 
raised,  followed  with  "  We  're  free  once  more  !  "  the 
people  swayed  and  murmured  as  if  under  a  breath 
of  electricity.  The  men  were  all  well  known,  and  as 
they  now  appeared,  presented  one  of  the  most  elo- 
quent appeals  ever  witnessed  of  the  blessed  effects 
of  the  temperance  reform. 


THE  OLD  MAN'S  STORY.  299 

"  FREE  AGAIN  !  "  shouted  Halton,  his  form  dilating 
with  hope  and  pride.  "Free  again!  Hallelujah  to 
God  !  we  're  men  again.  "Would  that  all  who  drink 
were  as  we  are." 

"  There  's  a  balm  in  Gilead  and  a  physician  there. 
The  Lord  is  here  ;  come,  come  to  the  waters  and  be 
healed.  Now  is  the  time ! "  Wild  and  thrilling,  the 
searching  tone  of  the  Hermit  reached  over  the  crowd. 

The  old  man  had  stepped  down  in  front  of  the  plat- 
form, where  a  table  and  writing  fixtures  had  been 
placed.  He  was  followed  by  Halton  and  his  compan- 
ions, and  the  Hermit ;  the  latter  still  holding  his  long 
staff,  and  his  pale  features  lit  up  with"  a  smile  of  lofty 
enthusiasm.  The  speaker  took  the  pledge,  and  asked 
who  would  be  the  first  man  to  put  his  name  to  the 
"  great  charter  of  freedom.  He  hoped  all  would  do 
it.  The  drunkards  of  the  land  were  looking  to  their 
action  that  night.  Come  !  " 

Young  Hudson  leaped  over  the  railing,  and  eagerly- 
snatched  the  pen.  As  he  held  it  a  moment  in  the 
inkstand,  a  tear  fell  from  the  old  man's  eye  upon  the 
paper. 

"  Sign  it  before  God  !  Sign  it,  young  man.  An- 
gels in  Heaven  would  sign  it.  I  would  write  my 
name  there  ten  thousand  times  in  blood,  if  it  would 
restore  me  the  loved  and  the  lost !  " 

The  young  man.  long  known  as  a  hard  drinker, 
wrote  Mortimer  Hudson  !  The  old  man  looked,  wiped 
his  tearful  eyes,  and  looked  again,  his  countenance 
alternating  with  red  and  deathly  paleness. 


300  MINOTE   HEBMON. 

"  It  is  —  no,  it  cannot  be.  Yet  how  strange  ? " 
muttered  the  speaker.  "  God  help  me  now  !  "  Cling- 
ing to  the  rail,  he  looked  with  terrible  earnestness 
upon  Hudson,  as  he  slowly  wrote  with  his  left  hand. 
"  Pardon  me,  Sir,  but  that  was  the  name  of  my  boy 
• —  it  is  my  own  name." 

Young  Hudson  trembled  from  head  to  foot.  Slow- 
ly raising  his  head,  and  looking  the  old  man  in  the 
face,  he  held  up  the  right  arm  from  which  the  hand 
had  been  severed.  The  two  looked  for  a  moment  into 
each  other's  eyes.  Both  reeled  and  clasped  in  close 
embrace. 

"  My  own  deeply  injured  boy  !  " 

"My  father!" 

Those  were  words  enough.  Their  souls  seemed  to 
grow  and  mingle  into  one,  in  that  long  embrace. 
People  leaped  upon  their  feet  to  catch  a  better  view 
of  the  scene,  every  face  streaming  with  tears. 

"  Let  me  here  thank  God  for  this  great  blessing, 
which  has  gladdened  my  guilt-burdened  soul .!  "  ex- 
claimed the  old  man.  Kneeling  where  he  was,  he 
poured  out  his  feelings  in  a  prayer,  which,  once  heard, 
never  could  be  forgotten. 

The  spell  was  complete.  The  aisles  and  all  the 
space  before  the  platform  were  crowded  with  people 
eager  to  sign.  The  Hermit  brushed  a  tear  away,  and 
walked  nervously  backward  and  forward,  striking  his 
staff  sharply  on  the  floor,  while  Halton  leaned  his 
head  against  the  platform,  and  wept  as  a  strong  man 
weeps  when  overcome.  But  his  tears  were  not  all  bitter. 


THE  OLD  MAN'S  STOKY.  301 

During  the  commotion  Jud  Lane  had  wormed  his 
way  around  to  where  John  Gault  had  taken  a  seat, 
and  prevailed  upon  him  to  drink  from  a  bottle  which 
he  had  with  him.  Then  sending  one  of  his  crew  for- 
ward with  the  bottle  to  place  it  upon  the  table  before 
the  platform,  he  offered  Gault  five  dollars  if  he  would 
go  and  claim  it.  The  drink  had  made  Gault  himself 
again,  and  he  was  ready  for  the  fun.  Lane  was  mis- 
taken in  the  effect  which  he  supposed  the  bottle  would 
produce.  The  impression  of  the  meeting  had  been 
too  deep  to  be  ridiculed  out  of  the  hearts  of  the  poo- 
pie.  The  speaker  used  the  circumstance  to  advantage 
against  the  instigators  :  it  was  fitting,  he  said,  that 
the  dealers,  or  their  representatives,  [the  bottle  was 
black,]  should  be  present,  dressed  in  appropriate 
mourning  garb. 

The  people  lingered,  loth  to  leave  the  Hall.  Slowly 
working  his  unsteady  course  through  the  ranks  of 
those  who  remained,  John  Gault  was  seen  moving 
towards  the  table. 

"  Make  way !  Make  way  for  John  Gault,"  said 
Hal  ton,  helping  to  open  a  clear  passage  to  the  table. 
"With  a  rocking  gait  the  drunkard  walked  up  to  the 
group  around  it,  but  not  to  sign  the  pledge,  as  ex- 
pected. Seizing  the  bottle  by  the  neck,  he  put  it  in 
his  pocket,  and  looking  the  elder  Hudson  cunningly 
in  the  eye,  stammered : 

"  This  bottle  is  mine.  Render  unto  —  C — aesar  the 
things  that — are  (hie)  Ccesar's."  The  rummies  ven- 
tured a  titter,  and,  back  under  the  galleries,  a  faint 


302  MINNIE  IIEKMON. 

clapping  of  hands.  Hudson  looked  him  steadily  and 
sadly  in  the  eye,  and  replied : 

"  True,  John  Gault,  '  and  to  God  the  things  that 
are  God's  ! '  " 

The  effect  was  electrical,  Gault  was  foiled  with 
his  own  weapons,  and  stood  hesitating  what  to  do  or 
say  next.  Hudson  then  appealed  to  him  in  a  manner 
which  drew  tears  from  every  eye.  He  told  Gault  his 
past  history,  his  degradation,  and  pictured  a  future, 
if  he  would  sign  the  pledge,  which  was  all  bright 
with  hope.  Every  word  told.  The  drunkard  first 
laughed,  then  listened,  grew  sad,  and  finally  wept. 
In  his  rags,  and  reeling,  with  Halton  to  hold  his  hand, 
the  name  was  rudely  written  upon  the  pledge.  As 
he  turned  away  in  the  care  of  Halton  and  Brayton, 
a  poorly  clad  woman  rushed  down  the  aisle,  and  fell 
upon  the  drunkard's  neck. 

"  John  Gault !  —  my  brother  !"  she  sobbed,  and 
swooned  in  his  arms.  The  drunkard  and  his  pauper 
sister  were  both  borne  to  the  house  of  Halton,  where 
for  a  week  true  friends  watched  with  Gault  as  he 
raved  in  the  horrible  tortures  of  delirium  tr em-ens. 

During  his  ravings,  the  wretched  man  would  have 
sold  his  soul  for  brandy.  But  his  bedside  and  door 
were  guarded  by  kind  and  faithful  friends. 


LETTIE  FENTON. 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

HIGH  LIFE. 

FROM  the  commencement  of  our  reform  to  the  pres- 
ent day,  its  opposition  has  been  found  .in  the  two.  ex- 
tremes of  society.  The  so-called  aristocracy  of  our 
land  has  sneered  at  its  progress,  and  treated  its  claims 
with  undisguised  contempt.  The  rich  and  the  fash 
ionable  have  considered  it  vulgar  to  labor  in  the 
vineyard  of  our  common  humanity,  and  in  the  midst 
of  their  luxuries  have  given  no  thought  to  the  des- 
olations sweeping  around  the  base  of  society.  The 
toilers  of  the  day  have  been  gathered  from  the  middle 
ranks,  as  a  general  thing  —  men  of  honest  hearts  and 
hard  hands  —  men  ardent  in  their  sympathies,  and 
bold  and  upright  in  action 

We  venerate  genuine  aristocracy,  We  love  the 
ring  of  the  true  metal.  Its  sympathies  are  never 
closed  against  the  appeals  of  the  lowly.  There  is  a 
real  polish  —  an  ease  and  gracefulness  in  its  manner, 
and  a  nobility  in  its  action.  It  is  the  ascendancy  of 
intellect  and  moral  worth  allied  to  fortune.  It  is  not 
servile  to  superiors,  or  tyrannical  and  insolent  to 
those  beneath.  It  never  answers  the  beggar  with 
a  taunt,  or  stares  coarsely  at  an  humble  garb.  It 


306  MINNIE   HEKMON. 

does  not  depend  upon  a  heraldry  of  tinsel.  "\Vith  its 
•wealth,  there  are  mingled  the  higher  and  nobler  vir- 
tues, which  add  true  and  enduring  luster  to  human 
character. 

Our  country  is  cursed  with  a  base  counterfeit.  It 
comes  not  of  old  family  names  or  honors.  It  is  the 
creation  of  a  day,  and  bears  upon  its  ill-fitting  gar- 
ments the  barren  soil  which  gave  it  birth.  It  is  red- 
olent of  the  dunghill.  Without  heart,  brains,  or 
character,  it  thrusts  its  overgrown  and  unwieldy  fists 
into  kids,  and  takes  an  ungainly  stride  into  fashiona- 
ble life.  It  builds  its  claims  upon  the  length  of  its 
purse,  and  seeks  elevation  by  looking  down  upon 
those  less  fortunate  and  silly.  It  has  no  foundation 
but  dollars,  ignorance,  and  arrogant  assumption.  It 
knows  no  way  of  retaining  a  position  but  by  treating 
the  more  humble  with  coarseness  and  contempt.  It 
offers  sickening,  fulsome  incense  to  its  superiors,  and 
heaps  insult  and  wrong  upon  its  so-called  inferiors. 
Its  manners  have  no  more  of  the  grace  of  the  genuine 
article,  than  the  snob  the  bearing  of  the  gentleman. 
It  is  as  much  out  of  place  in  the  drawing-room,  as  an 
ass  in  a  deer-park.  Its  attempts  at  gentility  are  sim- 
ply repulsive.  Its  men  live  and  die,  and  the  world 
is  no  better  for  their  living.  Its  mothers  teach  their 
daughters  to  forget  and  despise  all  things  useful.  Its 
daughters  are  apt  scholars,  and  live  their  worthless 
lives  between  the  piano,  pier  glass,  and  men  as  silly 
as  themselves.  They  thrust  themselves  forward  aa 
specimens  of  high  life,  upon  means  accumulated  by 


HIGH   LIFE.  307 

humble  but  honest  toil.  Their  coat  of  arms  should 
be  the  wash-tub,  brick,  saw,  lap-stone  or  mason's  hod, 
ever  keeping  them  in  mind  of  the  honorable  avoca- 
tions which  gave  them  the  means  to  make  themselves 
the  coarse  and  pitiful  counterfeits  they  are.  More  or 
less  of  this  fungus  is  found  in  every  community 
throughout  the  whole  land. 

Oakvale  had  its  share.  AVith  the  increase  of  wealth 
and  population  came  the  miserable  element,  which 
knew  of  no  other  mode  of  attracting  attention  than 
that  of  feeling,  and  assuming  to  be,  better  than  all 
else.  Independent  in  means,  and  caring  not  for  the 
common  weal,  it  stood  aloof  from,  or  openly  scorned 
the  temperance  movements.  To  get  drunk  on  wine, 
seemed  one  sure  way  of  creating  a  distinction  between 
them  and  those  who  would  not  drink,  or  who  were 
content  to  imbrute  themselves  upon  vulgar  liquors. 

This  class  of  society  have  been  unfortunate  in  be- 
ing placed  in  a  world  where  they  come  in  rude  con- 
tact with  those  who  toil.  And  when  misfortune  antf 
death  sweep  down  the  distinctions  of  earth,  and  con- 
sign the  millionaire  and  the  pauper  to  a  common  level 
and  a  common  home,  the  worms  know  no  distinc- 
tion of  persons.  They  feast  as  heartily  under  the 
towering  marble  as  under  the  rudely-placed  sod  in 
potters  field.  There  is  a  Heaven  where  the  lowly  are 
crowned  as  proudly  as  the  greatest  of  earth.  The 
epleridid  coach,  the  wide  domain,  and  the  swollen 
wealth  pass  not  the  plebeian  turf. 

Great  principles,  in  their  progress,  leave  an  impresg 


308  MINNIE   HEEMON. 

of  their  true  character.  Side  by  side  their  footsteps, 
evidence  will  arise  upon  either  hand,  remaining  like 
landmarks  to  attest  what  their  influence  has  been. 
Their  effects  upon  the  world  pass  into  history,  and 
remain  forever  as  matters  of  reference. 

The  foot-prints  of  Christianity  can  never  be  oblite- 
rated. Broadly  they  are  beaten  by  the  herald's  sandals 
in  every  clime.  The  blood  of  the  martyr  is  a  record 
which  cannot  be  effaced.  Wherever  the  Christian 
lives,  and  suffers,  and  dies,  the  light  of  Hope  and  Faith 
burns  upward,  and  lights  a  pathway  to  a  better  land. 
Pile  hope  of  salvation  is  as  steadfast  and  cheering  in 
the  hut  as  in  the  palace. 

Yet  the  great  of  earth  welcomed  not  the  kumble 
Nazarene.  They  turned  away  from  the  travel-worn 
and  weary  pilgrim* from  Heaven.  They  saw  not  the 
•glitter  of  a  heavenly  scepter  in  his  dust-covered  staff, 
•Dr  angel  retinues  in  his  humble  companions.  And  so 
the  great  and  the  fashionable  —  those  who  looked  for 
a  Saviour  with  bannered  host  and  golden  crown,  gave 
Him  of  Nazareth  a  crown  of  thorns,  and  spiked  the 
manger-born  to  the  cross. 

But  John  preached  the  gospel  which  the  Nazarene 
preached.  He  heralded  not  the  coming  of  one  sur- 
rounded by  the  great  and  princely  of  earth  —  its  po- 
tentates and  nobles  of  renown  and  lordly  mien — a  daz- 
zling crown  upon  his  head,  scepter  in  hand,  armed 
legions  about  him,  and  the  imperial  purple,  —  one 
who  should  move  in  pornp  and  splendor,  and  dispense 
honors  to  the  great.  But  the  dead  should  be  raised, 


HIGH   LIFE.  309 

the  blind  should  see,  devils  should  be  cast  ont,  the 
deaf  hear,  the  lame  walk,  the  sorrowing  be  comforted, 
and  the  GOSPEL  BE  PREACHED  TO  THE  POOE  !  Blessed 
gospel ! 

Humbly,  quietly,  and  unheralded  by  noise  and 
pomp,  the  temperance  reform  made  its  humble  ad- 
vent. It  was  manger-born.  There  was  dust  on  its 
sandals,  and  sadness  upon  its  brow.  It  wept  more 
than  it  smiled.  It  marshaled  not  the  great,  the  rich 
and  the  fashionable — the  titled  aristocracy  of  earth. 
It  came  not  to  give  fame  to  governors,  statesmen, 
colonels,  or  millionaires.  It  plunged  into  the  more 
humble  strata,  and  commenced  its  holy  mission  of  sa- 
ving humanity.  The  dead  were  raised  from  the  graves 
of  their  drunkenness,  the  devils  were  cast  out,  the 
blind  were  made  to  see,  the  deaf  to  hear,  the  lame  to 
walk,  and  its  GOSPEL  PREACHED  TO  THE  POOR  !  Bles- 
sed temperance  gospel ! 

Thus  came  our  reform.  The  Pharisees  of  earth 
have  crucified  it.  But  wherever  it  has  been  preached 
the  evidences  of  its  glorious  character  have  been 
thickly  scattered.  They  will  stand  when  all  else  fades. 
Enough  has  already  been  achieved  to  reward  the  toil- 
ers of  .lie  work  for  an  age  of  effort. 

In  Oakvale,  the  high-life  influences  were  all  leagued 
against  the  reform.  Especially  when  the  drunkards 
burst  from  their  chains  and  sprang  into  the  arena,  did 
they  turn  sneeringly  away.  Hal  ton,  and  a  host  of 
such  men,  had  been  redeemed,  and  their  homes  and 
families  made  blessed,  but  it  mattered  not.  To  go 
13 


310  MINNIE   HERMON. 

into  "Washingtonianism  would  be  coming  down  from 
their  position,  and  becoming  contaminated  by  a  con- 
tact with  the  vulgar.  The  Fenton  family,  especially 
took  no  pains  to  conceal  their  contempt  of  the  meet- 
ings, speakers  and  speeches.  Old  Fenton,  from  being 
a  canal  driver,  had  become  one  of  the  "  upper  ten." 
A  lucky  prize  in  the  lottery  was  the  foundation  of 
his  fortunes.  Subsequent  speculations  had  made  him 
wealthy  ;  and  by  grinding  the  poor  and  "  breaking 
down  rich"  he  had  retained  his  position  in  a  commu- 
nity where  there  were  enough  to  fawn  and  play  the 
spaniel.  The  Fenton  family  could  not  be  bettered,  in 
their  own  estimation.  At  home,  in  the  street,  or  at 
the  concert,  they  made  a  studied  attempt  to  show  off 
their  fashionable  ill-breeding.  When  Minnie  Her- 
mon  called  upon  Lettie  Fenton  to  sign  the  pledge,  she 
was  answered  with  insult.  She  did  not  associate  with 
poor  and  drunken  people  !  Edwin  Fenton  was  equal- 
ly as  ill  bred  as  his  sister,  when  called  upon  by  Bray- 
ton  and  Halton.  They,  the  Fentons,  were  in  the  re- 
ception of  a  great  deal  of  fashionable  company,  and 
it  would  be  vulgar  not  to  furnish  wine !  •  It  was  well 
enough  for  drunkards  to  sign  the  pledge  ;  they  were 
weak-minded,  and  needed  its  restraint. 

"  If  such  people  need  restraint,"  retorted  Halton, 
Btung  by  young  Fenton's  insulting  remarks,  "  I  know 
of  no  one  a  more  fit  subject  for  the  pledge  than  your- 
self, Mr.  Fenton.  I  have  been  a  drunkard  ;  but  I  was 
first  a  champagne  drunkard  !  " 

The  shot  told,  and  Fenton  turned  indignantly  away, 


HIGH   LIFE.  311 

with  the  remark  that  the  fanatics  abused  everybody, 
not  even  excepting  Elder  Snyder.  But  they  were 
vulgar  people.  The  young  fop  drew  on  his  kids,  and 
taking  a  glass  of  wine  from  the  sideboard,  passed  out 
to  call  on  the  ladies  of  his  acquaintance. 

"With  but  few  exceptions,  the  reformers  encounter- 
ed the  same  reception  from  the  so-called  "  first  fami- 
lies." The  excitement  was  intense,  and  the  middle 
and  lower  strata  of  society  were  deeply  broken  as  the 
wave  rolled  up  from  the  popular  heart,  and  swept  on- 
ward with  its  freight  of  men  disenthralled.  Every- 
where the  subject  was  talked  over.  As  in  all  other 
phases  of  the  work,  fault-finders  were  plenty ;  and  wise 
ones,  who  saw  danger  and  ruin  to  the  cause  in  the 
headlong  state  of  things.  Even  the  very  fact  that 
Halton  and  his  companions  had  reformed,  was  seized 
upon  and  used  against  the  "Washingtonian  movement. 
High  times  when  old  drunkards  were  to  come  up  out 
of  the  gutter  and  teach  people  temperance !  The  up- 
per class  would  not  be  caught  in  the  wake  of  such 
men.  And  there  the  upper  class  stood,  cold,  stub- 
born, immovable ;  presenting  the  strongest  barrier  be- 
tween the  evil  and  the  reformers,  alternately  frowning 
upon,  openly  abusing,  or  sneering  at  the  efforts  made 
by  the  working  men  of  the  reform.  They  would  rath- 
er than  not  have  seen  defeat  overwhelm  the  humble 
class  they  despised. 

"The  impertinent  hussy,"  said  Ellen  Belton,  "to 
come  here  in  her  every-day  duds,  and  ask  us  to  sign 


512  MINNIE  IIEKMON. 

the  pledge.  She  ought  to  be  turned  into  the  street. 
But  some  people  never  know  their  place." 

"  And  her  father  one  of  the  worst  rumsellers  ill 
town,  too !  "  chimed  in  Bell  Belton,  a  younger  sister. 
"  Wonder  she  ain't  ashamed  of  herself.  Better  ask 
him  to  sign  it,  I  should  think,  the  saucy  minx." 

"  And  don't  you  think,  as  sure  as  you  live,  she  went 
to  the  counting-room  and  asked  father  to  sign  it  1 " 

"  Bless  me  !  What  impudence  these  people  have. 
Shouldn't  wonder  if  some  old  drunkard  were  next  to 
burn  up  his  distillery  !  " 

"And  Min  Ilermon  wants  us  to  go  and  hunt  up  all 
the  miserable  vagabonds  in  town.  I  wish  folks  would 
mind  their  own  business !  People  like  us  sign  the 
pledge  and  join  a  society  of  vulgar,  drunken  men ! 
Indeed  !  "  and  the  indignant  lady  flounced  back  upon 
the  settee,  and  pouted  in  great  anger.  At  dinner  she 
learned  that  Halton  and  Brayton  had  actually  called 
upon  her  father,  and  in  a  lengthy  and  warm  conver- 
sation, dared,  not  only  to  ask  him  to  sign  the  pledge, 
but  to  stop  distilling.  It  was  astonishing  to  what 
lengths  these  miserable  meddlers  would  go.  "  But 
you  did  not  do  it,  Father  ? "  inquiringly  asked  both 
of  the  girls  at  the  same  moment. 

"  Didn't  do  it  ?  Why,  what  are  you  thinking  of? 
You  don't  suppose  I  am  a  fool,  Bell  ?  I'll  see  -them 
all  sunk  before  I  will  have  anything  to  do  with  them. 
Stop  my  business,  and  all  to  please  a  set  of  brawling 
fanatic  and  reformed  drunkards.  Ha !  ha  !  I  had 


HIGH   LIFE.  313 

ought  to  have  kicked  the  meddlers  out  of  the  office. 

O 

And  to  cap  the  climax,  old  Hermon's  daughter  came 
on  the  same  errand." 

"  Did  you  ever !  "  exclaimed  the  daughters,  in  con- 
cert. "  If  that  don't  beat  all !  And  she  came  here 
on  the  same  errand  ;  but  we  gave  her  enough  to  think 
about  a  spell.  I'll  warrant  she  will  not  be  caught 
here  again,"  and  the  queenly  beauty  tossed  her  head 
defiantly. 

In  the  afternoon  young  Fenton  called  upon  the 
Misses  Belton,  and  the  same  matters  were  again  intro- 
duced, and  over  their  wine  they  there  passed  many 
a  slant  at  the  Washingtonians.  The  ladies  laughed 
immoderately  when  Fenton  told  them  that  John  Gault 
was  to  be  sent  out  to  lecture  on  temperance,  and  the 
fop  drank  his  success  in  a  glass  of  wine,  with  the 
remark  that  he  would  be  brought  home  drunk  from 
the  first  tavern  he  stopped  at.  He  did  not  believe 
that  one  of  the  old  soaks  who  had  reformed,  would 
stick  a  fortnight.  But  a  good  many  of  the  young  men 
were  signing  the  pledge.  Old  Hermon's  daughter 
was  busy,  and  many  a  one  did  so  just  on  account  of 
her  good  looks. 

"  Good  looks  !  Humph  !  "  and  Bell  Belton  looked 
in  the  pier  glass  before  her,  with  an  air  of  displeasure. 

"  Good  looking  for  one  of  the  common  people,"  put 
in  Fenton,  fearing  that  he  had  offended  the  proud  and 
jealous  beauty.  The  approaching  evening  party  was 
then  discussed,  and  Fenton  took  his  leave. 

The  "  Arland  House  "  was  one  of  the  most  fash- 


314:  MINNIE   HERMON. 

ionable  in  Oakvale.  It  was  licensed,  and  its  drunk- 
ards never  went  to  the  lock-up.  Those  only  who  reel 
in  rags  and  live  in  huts,  are  put  under  lock  and  key 
for  drinkii  g  a  necessary  beverage.  The  landlord  of 

O  V  Cr 

the  Arland  was  a  short,  thick-set,  grey-haired  man 
of  about  forty  years  of  age,  aifable  in  his  manners 
and  attentive  to  his  customers.  A  forced  smile  al  ways 
played  upon  his  countenance,  the  very  foot  print  of 
treachery  and  bad  faith.  He  was  not  one  of  the  ma- 
lignant spirits,  like  Jud  Lane,  or  the  sullen  and  plot- 
ting ones,  like  Hermon  ;  but  he  cared  no  more  for 
those  around  him  than  for  the  horses  in  his  barns. 
He  was  a  jovial,  hale  fellow  well-met,  with  his  com- 
panions, but  as  destitute  of  heart  when  humanity 
plead,  as  the  rock  bathed  in  sunshine.  His  financial 
operations  showed  him  a  rascal  in  the  full  sense  of 
the  word.  Even  a  brother  rumdealer  had  come  under 
his  fleecing  management  to  the  tune  of  three  or  four 
thousand  dollars.  As  one  of  the  officers  of  a  state 
institution,  he  had  plundered  the  state  of  thousands. 
As  a  professed  temperance  landlord  he  had  fleeced 
temperance  people  out  of  a  fine  sum,  and  immediate- 
ly put  in  his  bottles  again  and  became  more  reckless 
than  ever.  Ashly  would  have  sold  rum  with  that 
ever-lurking  smile,  though  an  anthem  of  wailing  went 
up  around  him.  The  same  sneering,  skeptical  smile 
answered  the  whole  battery  of  all  the  facts,  and  ar- 
guments, and  appeals  which  had  been  brought  out 
in  the  discussion  of  the  reform.  Over  a  tale  of  acci- 
dent and  sufi'ering,  he  would  weep  ;  tell  him  that  an 


HIGH   LIFE.  315 

army  of  drunkards  were  being  damned  around  him; 
and  their  families  hungry  for  bread,  and  the  same* 
cold  smile  would  answer  as  in  the  appeal  for  aid. 

There  was  a  fashionable  and  gay  party  in  the  rooms 
of  the  "Arland."  The  sons  and  daughters  of  temper- 
ance people  even,  were  assembled  at  the  dance.  The 
better  class,  so  called,  of  young  men,  were  there.  Tho 
wine  went  round,  and  all  were  merry.  The  Wash- 
ingtonian  matters,  now  everywhere  the  absorbing  top- 
ic, were  then  discussed,  and  many  a  witty  remark  was 
made  and  laughed  over.  As  the  evening  wore  away 
the  flow  of  mirth  increased ;  and  at  the  table,  for  fash- 
ionable people,it  was  uproarious.  Young  Fenton  was 
running  over  with  good  feeling,  and  Bell  Belton's  sal- 
lies sparkled  like  the  champagne  she  had  drunk  so 
freely  of.  The  manners,  stories,  and  expressions  of 
the  reformers,  were  all  used  with  effect,  and  Fenton, 
with  a  false  rig,  gave  a  striking  representation  of  the 
Hermit,  as  he  appeared  upon  the  stand.  Bell  Belton, 
dressed  as  Minnie  Hermon,  passed  round  the  room 
with  a  champagne  bottle  and  wine-glass,  soliciting 
signers  to  the  pledge.  They  had  great  glee  over  the 
term  "  upper  crust,"  as  used  by  Halton.  An  im- 
mense chicken  pie  had  been  prepared,  with  an  upper 
crust  ludicrously  thick.  At  the  head  of  the  table,  a 
small  banner  had  been  placed  upon  a  walking  stick 
stuck  in  a  demijohn,  labeled  "  high  life."  Under  the 
relaxing  power  of  wine  there  was  many  a  thing  said 
and  done,  which  "  vulgar  "  people  in  the  lower  walks 
would  have  blushed  to  do. 


316  MINNIE   HERMON. 

"  Now  for  drawing  o,picter"  shouted  young  Fenton ; 
•quoting  the  words  and  pronunciation  of  Hal  ton  as 
used  in  his  rugged  but  stirring  appeals.  He  en- 
tered the  room  with  a  hand-sled  which  he  had  found 
in  the  hall  below,  and,  passing  round  the'  room,  in- 
vited all  to  ride.  "  It  is  hard  sleddin',"  again  quo- 
ting Halton,  "  but  the  people  are  moving,  and  we 
must  clear  the  track.  Who  takes  the  first  train 
through  ?  Front  seats  reserved  for  the  ladies !  " 

Wine  had  made  the  impulsive  Bell  Belton  bold, 
and  she  promptly  took  her  seat  upon  the  hand-sled. 
One  of  the  company  placed  a  bottle  upon  the  sled 
for  steam,  and  another  gave  her  a  walking  stick  to 
scull  with.  Some  one  shouted  "All  aboard!"  and 
rang  the  waiter's  bell,  and  Fenton  started,  amid  the 
wild  mirth  of  the  whole  party,  "  drawing  a  picter," 
as  he  often  announced,  round  and  round  the  ball- 
room, stopping  often  to  "  wood  up,"  as  he  expressed 
it,  when  drinking  from  the  bottle  upon  the  sled.  So- 
ber people,  viewing  the  scene,  would  have  blushed  for 
shame.  Bell  Belton  actually  reeled  upon  the  sled, 
and  but  for  assistance,  would  have  fallen  upon  the 
floor.  Her  cheeks  were  repulsively  red,  her  eyes 
glassy,  and  her  usually  brilliant  features  wreathed  in 
the  sickly  leer  of — drunkenness!  But  the  mirth 
grew  furious,  and  not  until  Fenton  gave  out  from  ex- 
haustion, was  the  repulsive  spectacle  ended.  The 
landlord  of  the  Arland  had  seen  the  whole  from  the 
door,  and  turned  away  with  a  more  than  usually 
broad  smile,  for  he  hated  both  the  Belton  and  Fenton 


HIGH   LIFE.  31T 

families,  and  he  knew  that  such  conduct  would  strike 
keenly  at  home. 

At  a  late  hour,  the  party  at  the  Arland  broke  up. 
A  four-horse  sleigh  had  been  chartered  to  bring  in 
and  carry  home  the  company.  After  much  trouble 
and  confusion,  the  village  portion  of  the  party  was 
collected  in  the  sleigh.  Young  Fenton  was  the  last 
in,  with  a  huge  piece  of  cheese  in  one  hand,  and  a 
half-emptied  bottle  in  the  other.  He  reeled,  but  was 
witty  still,  and  his  wild  shouting  pealed  out  in  the 
night's  stillness. 

"  Let's  '  wood  up,'  "  he  stammered,  as  he  clambered 
into  the  sleigh.  Getting  up  on  the  back  seat,  he 
assumed  a  theatrical  attitude,  with  bottle  in  hand,  and 
in  imitation  of  the  Hermit,  commenced  a  speech. 

"  Feller-citi-(hic)-zens  !  wo !  wo  !  Ye  that  tarry  long 
at  the  —  the  wine,  ye  that  mix  your  (hie)  your  liquors ! 
Ye  that  stir  'em  in  the  (hie)  — in  the — the  cup.  They 
shall  bite  like  a  sar — arpent,  and  st-hing  like  a — like 
a —  What's  that  other  varmint? —  like  a  (hie)  —  like 
a —  the  devil,  my  friends  !  Let  me  wood  up,  and  — • 
I'll  —  [gurgle,  gurgle,  from  the  bottle]  (hie)  "  draw  a 
picter." 

"  I'll  draw  all  your  '  picters,'  "  snarled  the  driver, 
shivering  with  cold,  and  he  struck  the  leaders  with 
his  whip,  and  yelled  out  "  go  !  " 

Like  a  flash,  Fenton  was  jerked  from  his  feet  over 
the  hind  end  of  the  sleigh.  He  caught  the  cloak  of 
Bell  Bel  ton  in  falling,  and  both  went  out  upon  the 
curb-stoue  together  A  shriek  followed  the  boister- 


318  MINNIE  IIERMON. 

ous  ha !  ha !  of  the  revelers,  as  the  drunken  ones 
came  to  the  giound  ;  and  as  soon  as  the  drunken  dri- 
ver could  be  operated  upon,  the  sleigh  was  driven 
back,  and  the  company  got  out. 

Some   of  the   upper  crust  was  broken.     Fenton's 
thigh  and  arm  were  broken.     Miss  Belton  fell  with 
her  back  across  the  curb-stone,  apd  was  taken  up  in- 
sensible, the  blood  oozing  from  her  mouth  and  nostrils. 
Ilalton   had    materials  for   drawing  his  pictures. 
Young  Fenton  was  a  cripple  for  life,  and  Bell  Belton 
received   so   severe  an  injury  in  the  spine  that  she 
never   walked   again.     High   life  was  brought  low. 
Ellen  Belton  married  a  young  man  of  fashion,  who 
squandered  her  portion  in  drinking  and  gambling,  and 
became  a  common  sot.     Old  Belton,  in  a  fit  of  deliri- 
um, plunged  headlong  into  a  well.     One  of  the  sons 
died  of  delirium  tremens  in  his  own  house,  chewing 
the  flesh  from  his  arms,  and  spitting  it  out  with  the 
froth   and  foam  of  madness.     Another  brother  fol- 
lowed in  a  brief  period.     The  last  one  lingered  a  few 
years,  a  miserable  drunkard  —  was  taken  home  from 
one  of  his  drunken  sprees,  and  soon  died.     A  splen- 
did marble  shaft  in  the  Oakvale  church-yard,  broken 
midway,  impressively  reads  the  history  of  the  wealthy 
and  talented  male  members  of  the  Belton  family. 

They  were  people  of  fashion,  loved  their  wine,  and 
scorned  the  associations  of  reformed  men.  The  re- 
viled Ilalton  lives  to  honor  our  common  humanity, 
wliue  they  find  a  drunkard's  rest  under  marble. 


CHAPTER  XXYI. 

CLEAN  TICKETS STICKING  TO   PARTY. 

THE  sweep  of  Washingtonianism  was  broad  and 
marked  throughout  the  country.  "With  searching 
power  its  tide  plunged  down  among  the  darker  cur- 
rents of  society,  and  ebbed  back  with  trophies  upon 
its  bosom.  The  deepest,  darkest  craters  of  the  evil 
were  penetrated,  and  their  infernal  fires  extinguished. 
The  peaks  and  the  base  of  society  were  lashed  by  the 
storm.  Borne  up  on  the  exultant  crest  of  the  wave, 
were  the  bruised  and  the  broken,  their  filth  and  rags 
fresh  upon  them  as  they  came  from  the  hut  and  the 
reeking  alley.  Each  in  turn  became  an  apostle  of  the 
new  doctrine,  and  in  turn  they  went  out  and  preached 
the  tidings  of  their  redemption.  The  shackles  fell 
from  more  than  one  hundred  thousand  captives,  and 
there  was  one  united,  grand  anthem  of  singing  and 
rejoicing  for  the  cloud  of  returning  prodigals  which 
darkened  the  pathways  to  the  "Washingtonian  shrine. 
Like  the  storm  in  a  summer  day,  the  reform  came  up 
in  a  clear  sky.  Society  was  gashed  by  the  torrents 
which  quickly  gathered  and  pressed  onward,  lifting 
away  from  habit  and  prejudice  the  high  and  the 
humble.  The  storm  has  passed  by,  and  the  channel'* 


320  MINNIE   HEKMON. 

bed  is  nearly  dry.  The  force  has  been  spent.  There 
are  flecks  of  verdure  blooming  here  and  there  ;  but 
the  rest  is  dry  and  parched,  and  the  death-fires  of  the 
plague  have  licked  up  unnumbered  trophies  which 
cost  many  a  tear,  kind  word,  or  pleading  prayer. 
There  is  hardly  an  altar  reared  by  the  original  Wash- 
ingtonians,  upon  which  the  flame  then  kindled  now 
lingers. 

The  careful  observer  could  have  foretold  the  fail- 
ure of  the  movement  to  eradicate  the  evil.  Like  an 
angry  surge,  it  hoarsely  thundered  around  the  walls 
of  the  old  Babylon.  It  left  the  mark  of  its  force  where 
it  struck,  but  the  hoary  battlements  remained  in  their 
strength.  It  could  not  be  otherwise.  They  were 
based  upon  law,  and  a  hedge  of  legislative  enactments 
bristled  in  unbroken  strength.  The  government  in- 
terposed its  all-powerful  arm,  and  the  traffic,  under 
the  aegis  of  its  protection,  smiled  in  security  and  scorn. 
As  the  flushed  legions  of  the  reformers  recoiled  from 
the  stronghold,  impregnable  to  their  moral  weapons, 
thousands  despaired  and  deserted.  An  amnesty  of 
offences  was  everywhere  declared ^  by  the  enemy. 
Others  were  left  alone,  exposed  to  the  treacherous 
sally,  and  went  down  in  the  unequal  contest.  "  Torn 
but  flying,"  the  reform  banner  could  only  be  planted 
where  it  could  flout  the  emblem  of  legalized  piracy, 
or  at  times  be  borne  by  forlorn  hopes  again  and  again 
to  the  breach. 

As  the  eiiemy  has  slimed  his  retreating  way  from 
one  position  to  another,  the  trail  has  ever  been  fol- 


STICKING   TO   PAKTY.  321 

lowed  up  by  the  beleaguering  hosts.  The  last  strong- 
holds have  been  reached.  The  capitol  was  besieged 
and  flooded  with  petitions.  The  mighty  evil  took  the 
alarm,  and  leagued  with  party  interests.  Vanquished 
by  argument  in  the  council-chamber,  it  rallied  at  the 
ballot-box.  There  the  unholy  alliance  turned  for  the 
last  hand-to-hand  conflict.  There,  at  the  fountain- 
head  of  a  people's  power,  legislators  of  the  right  com- 
plexion were  to  be  annually  created,  and  the  traffic 
thus  sustained  and  perpetuated  at  the  capitol.  Against 
this  union  of  party  and  law,  the  reformers  were  asked 
to  quietly  use  their  moral  weapons.  They  were  to  be 
content  to  labor  for  the  salvation  of  the  drunkards 
made  by  government ;  casting  their  suffrages  for  the 
perpetuation  of  the  evils  of  intemperance,  and  at  the 
same  time  content  to  petition  for  their  removal.  They 
might  have  thus  toiled  forever.  Their  efforts  would 
have  fallen  as  far  short  of  arresting  the  tide,  as  the 
sunbeam  which  lingers  upon  the  sweeping  surface  of 
Niagara. 

The  extent  to  which  parties  have  been  disciplined, 
has  proved  a  curse  to  our  country.  The  right  of  suf- 
frage has  been  most  basely  prostituted.  Unscrupu- 
lous demagogism  has  for  years  controlled  our  elec- 
tions. Politics,  in  the  common  meaning  of  the  term, 
have  become  as  corrupt  and  foul  as  rum  and  intrigue 
can  make  them.  Honesty  in  political  management 
is  not  known.  "All  is  fair  in  politics,"  is  the  basis 
of  action.  The  vei  y  heart  of  the  country  has  been 
corrupted,  freemen  bartered  like  cattle  in  the  market, 


322  MINNIE   HEKMON. 

or  led  like  bound  slaves,  and  their  suffrages  swindled 
away  for  less  than  pottage.  The  caucus  system,  and 
the  means  for  the  consummation  of  its  frauds,  have 
bred  the  deepest  corruption  in  the  public  morals. 
Honor  and  virtue  have  become  objects  of  hissing  and 
scorn.  From  the  sacred  precincts  of  home,  the  citi- 
zen has  plunged  for  years  into  the  blighting  mael- 
strom of  the  u  sweat-pit  "  debauch".  The  more  hon- 
orable man  in  common  intercourse,  becomes  a  liar 
and  a  knave  in  the  intrigues  and  swindles  of  election- 
eering. The  accursing  element  has  reeked  at  the 
church  altar.  Its  foul  and  bestial  breath  has  mingled 
with  the  hollow  prayer ;  its  hand,  stained  with  the 
leprous  pollutions  of  the  rum-treating  carnival,  has 
desecrated  the  broken  body  of  Christ.  From  the  Sac- 
rament the  political  recreant  has  gone  out  to  buy 
votes  with  rum,  and  drink  with  the  boisterous  and 
vile.  Moral  and  religious  principles  are  alike  sacri- 
ficed to  secure  personal  or  party  aims.  The  sot  and 
libertine  has  slavered  on  the  bench,  and  the  embodi- 
ment of  dram-shop  ruffianism  stalked,  through  the 
controlling  machinery  of  party  deception,  into  the 
senate  chamber.  Everywhere,  men  whom  justice 
would  honor  with  dungeon  and  shackle,  have  wormed 
into  positions  of  emolument  and  trust.  Our  elections 
have  dishonored  the  country  and  its  people  —  eleva- 
ting the  unworthy  to  power,  and  sapping  public  and 
private  virtue.  The  ballot-box  has  been  used  as  the 
most  potent  engine  of  the  profligate  and  abandoned, 
the  purchased  mercenaries  of  the  dram-shop  and 


STICKING  TO   PABTY.  323 

brothel  disfranchising  tne  citizen  who  has  a  stake  in 
society,  and  sending  their  otvn  appropriate  represent- 
atives to  legislate  for,  or  administer  the  laws  of  the 
country. 

The  caucus  system  has  been  the  main-spring  —  the 
controlling  power  of  this  evil.  It  has  placed  the  po- 
litical helm  in  the  hands  of  the  unprincipled  few. 
Cliques  of  village  demagogism  have  led  the  masses 
for  years.  The  machinery  is  set  in  motion  by  two  or 
three  at  the  capital,  or  the  county  seat ;  it  reaches  the 
smaller  fry  in  the  towns,  and  all  delegations  are 
packed  at  an  early  day.  The  same  influences  control 
the  nominating  conventions  ;  on  motion,  all  is  declared 
unanimous  ;  public  opinion  in  high-sounding  resolu- 
tions, is  put  before  the  honest  yeomanry,  and  the  nom- 
inees are  before  the  people.  A  corrupting  fund,  un- 
der the  false  name  of  a,  printing  fund,  is  then  assessed 
on  the  candidates,  the  taverns  are  subsidized,  and 
the  strife  commences.  The  open  purchase  of  votes 
by  money,  or  the  gambling  for  them  in  the  groggery, 
are  the  only  means  depended  upon  by  the  party. 
The  press  lends  itself  to  the  demoralizing  work.  The 
most  exemplary  citizen  is  transformed  into  an  angel 
of  darkness,  and  branded  with  all  things  infamous, 
while  scoundrels  by  profession  and  practice,  if  on  the 
'  regular  nominations,"  are  as  falsely  transformed 
into  prodigies  of  integrity,  purity,  and  moral  worth. 
Under  such  a  state  of  things,  honorable  men  liave 
shunned  the  caucus,  where  the  worst  portion  of  socie- 
ty controls  and  manufactures  the  "  popular  will." 


324:  1UNNIE  HERMON. 

They  shrink  from  nominations  when  their  inmost  lives 
are  fastened  upon  by  the  fiendishness  of  the  party 
press,  or  of  the  bar-room  blackguard,  and. torn  piece- 
meal into  shreds.  A  foreigner,  visiting  this  country 
in  the  height  of  an  exciting  political  campaign,  would 
at  once  determine  that  both  parties  had  selected,  as 
the  candidates  for  their  suffrages,  the  vilest  class 
they  could  hunt  out  from  the  depths  of  scoundrelism. 
A  day  of  drunkenness,  riot,  profanity,  and  revolting 
revelry  has  closed  up  the  plan  of  operations,  and  the 
patriot  cheek  reddens  with  hot  shame  at  the  wide- 
spread dishonor,  as  well  as  shudders  at  the  foot-marks 
of  the  plague  which  is  preying  upon  the  morals  of 
the  country.  Deeper  than  pit-marks,  the  cancer  eats 
at  the  heart  of  our  institutions. 

In  Oakvale,  party  feeling  ran  high.  Each  party 
had  established  a  press,  and  the  columns  of  each  pa- 
per teemed  with  low  and  scurrilous  abuse  of  the  op- 
position. Bar-room  demagogism  echoed  the  assaults. 
Hum  and  slang  were  the  standing  batteries.  So  pow- 
erful and  corrupting  were  the  operations  —  the  disci- 
pline of  party  —  that  those  who  would  not  be  seen  in 
the  bar-room,  would  furnish  funds  to  imbrute  their 
neighbors  and  cheat  them  of  their  suffrages.  "All  is 
fair  in  politics,"  was  the  motto  ;  and  the  church-mem- 
ber and  moralist  closed  their  eyes  with  the  villainous 
reflection  that,  as  the  opposing  party  did,  so  they 
were  justified  in  doing. 

As  the  more  sagacious  of  the  temperance  people 
had  carried  on  the  struggle,  they  had  learned  the  fact 


STICKING   TO   PARTY.  325 

that  the  rum  interest  was  the  great  lever  of  party 
demagogism,  and  that  there  was  a  close  union  be- 
tween party  and  the  traffic.  To  be  available,  a  can- 
didate must  stand  favorably  with  the  liquor  people. 
If  obnoxious  to  that  class,  he  was  either  cut  down  in 
caucus  or  convention,  or  stabbed  at  the  election.  The 
liquor  interest  was  ever  consistent,  and  at  the  polls 
voted  for  its  men,  regardless  of  party.  Hence  the 
determination  of  parties  to  always  mould  their  nomi- 
nations so  as  to  secure  the  support  of  the  dramshops. 
As  light  broke  in,  there  were  murmurings  at  the  tyr- 
anny of  party  bondage.  It  bound  men  in  dishonor- 
ing slavery.  It  chained  them  to  the  service  of  party, 
however  repugnant  to  their  sense  of  honor.  Galley 
slaves,  chained  to  the  party  oar,  they  were  compelled 
to  toil  to  sustain  the  very  evils  which  they  were  sworn 
against.  Shoulder  to  shoulder  with  rumsellers  and 
their  bloated  minions,  honorable  men,  as  members  of 
party,  were  compelled  to  support  those  who  were 
deadly  opposed  to  the  great  cause  they  professed  to 
lore.  Thus  boards  of  excise  and  legislatures  were 
annually  created  of  men  who  were  sworn  enemies  to 
the  temperance  cause,  by  those  who  were  its  sworn 
friends.  Thus  blindly  and  fatally  were  men  held 
in  thrall  by  the  magic  influence  of  party  discipline  ! 
The  impracticables,  or  radicals,  of  Oakvale,  had 
already  given  the  party  demagogues  trouble.  While 
they  contented  themselves  with  declamation  in  the 
church  or  lecture  room  ;  with  adopting  resolutions  or 
the  compilation  of  statistics,  no  trouble  was  appre- 


326  MINNIE   HERMON. 

bended.  The  war  of  words  amounted  to  nothing,  so 
long  as  they  "  stuck  to  party  "  and  kept  the  temper- 
ance question  "  out  of  politics,"  voting  steadily  in  ut- 
ter violation  of  all  their  professions.  The  party  lead- 
ers were  all  "just  as  good"  temperance  men,  espe- 
cially before  elections,  as  men  could  be;  but  it  would 
prove  the  ruin  of  the  cause  the  moment  its  misguided 
friends  dragged  it  into  the  political  arena.  It  was  too 
holy  a  cause  to  be  thus  destroyed  !  And  so  these  men 
continually  whined  forth  their  hypocrisy.  At  the 
same  time  they  were  unblushingly  plunging  into  the 
deepest  corruptions  of  bar-room  electioneering.  -But 
party  attachments  were  strong,  the  better  people 
blind  and  easily  duped.  Even  at  this  day,  many 
boast  that  they  never  "  split  a  ticket !  "  which  is  equiv- 
alent to  saying  that  they  have  voted  for  the  most  vile 
and  profligate  of  men,  merely  because  put  in  nomi- 
nation by  their  party  conventions! 

Oak  vale  had  its  share  of  demagogues.  They  were 
loud  in  their  professions  of  regard  for  the  people,  and 
ever  eager  to  serve  their  country  in  a  public  capacity. 
From  the  higher  position  to  the  most  menial,  there 
was  a  hungry  pack  of  petty  office-seekers,  stooping 
to  every  trick  to  secure  popular  favor.  Some  impor- 
tant measure  was  made  the  pretext  for  their  wondrous 
zeal,  and  the  masses  were  appealed  to  annually  to 
rally  against  the  phantom  danger. 

Skillott  was  one  of  the  most  crafty,  as  well  as  OHO 
of  the  most  unscrupulous.  He  had  a  saint-like  coun- 
tenance, and  a  honeyed  phrase  for  all.  He  was 


STICKING   TO    i'AliTY.  327 


in  his  manner,  kad  well  calculated  to  win  favor.  But 
a  blacker  heart  than  his  never  beat  in  human  frame. 
Fresh  from  the  brothel  or  the  drinking  and  gambling 
saloon,  he  would  rub  his  hands,  and  in  gentle  speech 
talk  to  temperance  men  of  the  value  of  sobriety,  and 
to  Christians  of  the  sublime  truths  of  the  Bible.  He 
would  converse  for  hours  with  the  pastor  on  religious 
or  moral  subjects,  or  as  readily  find  congenial  spirits 
in  dens  of  vice  amid  the  clink  of  glasses,  with  the  ruf- 
fian or  the  wanton.  With  a  cat-like  pace  and  meek 
countenance,  he  pursued  his  way  towards  the  goal  of 
his  ambition. 

There  was  another  who  must  not  be  forgotten.  He 
was  a  prominent  member  of  the  -  church,  and 
had  made  loud  professions  of  temperance  and  religion. 
He  had  left  his  old  political  friends  at  an  early  day, 
and  joined  the  ascending  party,  accepting  its  crumbs 
with  eagerness,  and  becoming  one  of  the  most  deter- 
mined advocates  of  -  principles.  His  pew  in  the 
church  was  never  empty.  From  the  avails  of  fat  offi- 
ces, he  gave  liberally  to  the  church  and  the  pastor. 
He  was  a  devoted  Christian,  and  was  anxious  to  give 
as  far  as  he  was  able,  to  the  cause  of  religion  !  He 
agreed  with  all  people.  As  he  waxed  fat  at  the  pub- 
lic crib,  he  became  valorous  of  his  services  to  the 
party,  and  constituted  himself  one  of  its  pillars.  Men 
owed  their  nominations  and  elections  to  this  potent 
calculator  !  He  could  figure  out  a  result  with  unpre- 
tending ease,  and  always  predicted  the  result,  —  after 
it  was  known  to  a  certainty.  He  loved  the  temper- 


328  MINNIE   IIERMON. 

ance  cause.  With  its  most  radical  friends,  he  was 
radical ;  with  the  half-way  friend,  he  was  half-way ; 
with  the  drinking  man,  he  was  liberal; and,  though 
a  temperance  man,  did  not  object  to  others  doing  as 
they  pleased ;  to  the  dealer,  he  was  bland,  nodded 
and  winked  knowingly,  sneered  at  those  who  were 
ruining  the  temperance  cause,  and  at  elections  called 
up  the  rabble  and  treated  them.  The  other  party  did 
BO  !  When  he  was  up  for  an  important  office,  he 
chuckled  over  his  tact  at  swimming  between  the  two 
interests.  In  the  bar-room  he  avowed  himself  a  tem- 
perance man,  and  threw  down  the  five  dollars  to  treat 
the  company  !  He  was  perfectly  willing  that  other 
people  should  exercise  their  own  opinion  in  such  mat- 
ters. To  the  temperance  men  he  whined  about  per- 
secution, and  thought,  as  he  had  always  been  a  tem- 
perance man,  they  ought  to  "  turn  in  "  and  sustain 
him.  His  position  in  the  church  was  used  for  the 
same  purpose,  and  as  falsely.  From  the  church  he 
passed  to  the  groggery.  He  would  descend  to  the 
lowest  haunt.  He  would  drink  with  the  vilest,  or  fur- 
nish money  to  inebriate  a  score  in  the  "  sweat-pit," 
where  voters  were  manufactured  the  Sabbath  be- 
fore election.  Barrels  of  beer,  and  crackers  and 
cheese,  were  placed  at  eligible  localities  before  elec- 
tions, to  secure  suffrages.  And  Mr.  Dobbs,  at  the 
game  time,  most  bitterly  lamented  the  course  of  those 
"hot-heads"  who  were  determined  to  drag  the  tem- 
perance cause  into  politics.  He  was  as  much  of  a 
temperance  man  as  any  one ;  but  he  could  not  coirn- 


STICKING  TO   PARTY.  329 

tenance  any  such  folly.  The  "  cussed  fools "  [Mr. 
Dob bs  never  wore  his  religion  across  the  church  thresh- 
old] would  destroy  all  the  good  that  had  been  done 
in  spite  of  all  he  could  say  or  do.  In.  the  Alhambra 
he  reiterated  his  grievances  over  Cogniac  and  fried 
liver. 

"Walter  Brayton  had  somewhat  cooled  in  his  tem- 
perance zeal.  The  canker  of  political  ambition  had 
entered  his  heart,  and  he  gave  his  hopes  to  the  at- 
tainment of  political  distinction.  He  dreamed  not  of 
the  pitfalls  which  lay  in  his  path.  And  upon  such 
men  the  allurements  of  political  life  win  like  a  charm 
—  stealthily  but  strongly  binding  the  better  impulses, 
antil  the  victim  is  blindly  led'  a  slave  to  party. 

Skillott  was  a  «keen  observer  of  human  nature.  He 
had  discovered  the  weak  point  in  Brayton's  character, 
and  formed  his  plans  accordingly.  He  hated  the  tal- 
ented lawyer  with  a  deep  and  unyielding  hate.  He 
now  plotted  his  ruin  with  the  coolness  of  a  savage, 
and  proceeded  to  weave  the  web  around  his  powerful 
rival.  Skillott  was,  too,  politically  ambitious.  He 
would  secure  the  aid  and  influence  of  Brayton,  bind 
him  to  his  interests,  and  ruin  him  in  the  process. 
It  was  a  bold  plan,  and  fatally  consummated,  as  the 
sequel  will  show. 

With  smiles  and  kind  words,  and  an  earnestly  ox- 
pressed  interest  in  his  welfare,  the  crafty  counselor 
commenced  his  approaches.  They  were  coolly  met 
at  first.  But  words  were  dropped  where  they  would 
reach  Brayton's  ears.  Tools  were  found  to  join  in  the 


330  MINNIE   HERMON. 

plot.  Ere  the  victim  had  seen  a  mesh,  the  fire  hacl 
been  kindled  in  his  heart,  and  the  light  of  its  false 
glare  had  secured  his  attention.  But  for  these  new 
feelings,  he  would  have  seen  the  change  in  his  acts 
and  sentiments  as  a  temperance  reformer.  One  ex- 
cuse after  another  came  readily  to  his  mind  ;  and  ere 
six  months  had  passed  by,  Walter  Brayton's  voice 
was  hardly  heard  upon  the  platform.  Many  a  true 
friend  mourned  this  change,  but  could  not  account 
for  it.  The  Washingtonian  interest  flagged,  for  a 
strong  man  had  been  bound,  and  the  enemy  came  in 
like  a  flood.  Many  a  poor  wretch  gave  way  when 
"Walter  ceased  to  nerve  by  his  presence  and  trumpet 
peals.  Walter  found  himself  looking  with  less  re- 
pugnance upon  men  whom  he  had  so  strongly  de- 
nounced. The  temperance  meeting  was  almost  en- 
tirely abandoned.  When  he  did  attend,  some  un- 
worthy excuse  was  formed  to  rid  himself  of  the  call 
of  the  audience.  Skillott  courted  his  company,  and 
cunningly  infused  more  poison  into  his  mind.  Once 
drifting  away,  there  was  danger  of  an  utter  wreck 
He  was  invited  to  political  gatherings,  and  called  out 
in  addresses.  His  eloquence  was  popular  with  the 
masses,  and  the  incense  of  popular  applause  proved 
grateful  to  the  new  master  whjch  had  so  suddenly 
sprung  up  full  grown  in  his  bosom.  He  became  a 
leading  spirit  in  political  campaigns,  and  saw  open 
before  him  a  career  of  much  promise. 

—  Walter  Bray  ton  was    drifting  from   his  better 
moorings ! 


STICKING  TO   PARTY.  331 

There  was  one  friend  who  had  watched  "Walter's 
course  with  all  the  anxiety  of  her  deep  and  change- 
less love.  She  had  listened  to  him  while  he  plead 
the  wrongs  of  the  drunkard,  and  loved  him  for  his 
uncompromising  opposition  to  the  traffic.  Against 
the  bitter  words  of  her  father  —  and  he  seldom  spoke 
otherwise  than  bitterly  to  her — she  had  defended 
Walter.  Hermon  had  sworn  that  Walter  Brayton 
should  never  marry  a  daughter  of  his  —  he  should 
die  first.  Minnie  had  turned  away  from  the  infuria- 
ted drunkard  and  wept  in  secret — not  so  much  at  what 
the  madman  said,  as  at  the  deep  ruin  which  his 
habits  had  brought  upon  him.  She  had  also  found 
trouble  in  the  new  associations  of  Brayton.  She  in- 
stinctively shrank  from  Skillott.  That  instinct  told 
her  that  there  was  danger  in  his  stealthy  tread  and 
glittering  eye.  The  lawyer  had  said  but  little  to  her. 
but  there  had  been  something  in  his  manner  which 
she  loathed  and  dreaded.  She  had  noticed  his  inti- 
macy with  Brayton,  and  she  foreboded  evil  from  it. 
She  felt  that  the  crafty  and  unprincipled  man  was  no 
friend  to  Walter.  There  was  some  evil  design  con- 
cealed under  his  assumed  friendship,  and  she  deter- 
mined to  watch  every  movement  with  a  jealous  eye. 

Walter  seldom  spent  much  time  at  Hermon'sin  the 
company  of  Minnie  ;  it  only  subjected  both  her  and 
himself  to  abuse  from  the  sullen  and  revengeful  land- 
lord. Of  late  he  had  seen  her  less  than  usual.  Al- 
though her  love  for  him  had  been  tried,  even  in  the 
ordeal  of  tears  and  blows,  doubts  of  her  truth  had 


332  illXXIE   HERMON. 

been  planted  in  his  mind.  The  evil  seed  had  been 
carelessly  sown  by  an  evil  hand,  and,  in  spite  of  all 
she  had  been  to  him,  was  taking  root.  As  the  new 
mistress,  Ambition,  won  his  attention,  he  more  readi- 
ly became  distrustful  of  the  other.  "With  devilish 
cunning,  Skillott  had  dropped  expressions  in  Walter's 
hearing  which  lingered  and  rankled,  and  grew  with 
the  food  they  fed  upon.  Even  her  night  pilgrimages 
of  mercy  — going  out  in  the  depths  of  the  night  to  dis- 
pense her  charities,  so  as  to  escape  the  abuse  of  her 
father — were  artfully  colored  into  whispers  against  her. 
Often,  on  such  errands,  she  was  accompanied  by  the 
Hermit.  Skillott  put  on  a  look  of  sadness  as  he  care- 
lessly alluded  to  the  matter,  regretting  that  so  fine  a 
woman  as  Miss  Hermon  should  be  so  strangely  fasci- 
nated by  that  artful  man.  Their  movements  in  the 
night  were  for  no  good  purpose,  he  feared.  And  the 
fearful  influence  of  Skillott  had  so  soon  been  woven 
around  Walter,  that  he  listened  to  such  things  without 
a  word  of  rebuke  ! 

— The  night  darkened  around  Minnie  Hermon ! 

Late  in  the  summer  there  was  an  announcement 
made  of  a  temperance  meeting,  which  produced  no 
little  excitement.  John  Gault  was  to  speak.  Like  a 
meteor,  his  name  had  shot  up  into  the  sky.  His  fiery 
eloquence  had  kindled  an  excitement  wherever  he 
had  been,  and  people  everywhere  were  on  the  tip-toe 
to  hear  him.  The  press,  in  spite  of  its  subserviency 
to  the  rum  power,  had  awarded  him  the  highest  posi- 


STICKING   TO   PAKTT. 

tion  as  a  natural  orator.  The  people  of  Oakvale 
beard  and  doubted,  yet  were  anxious  to  judge  for 
themselves.  ,- 

Minnie  had,  late  in  the  evening  of  the  meeting, 
while  returning  from  some  of  her  visits,  met  Walter 
and  Skillott  in  company.  The  latter  excused  himself, 
and  passed  on  with  a  smile,  leaving  "Walter  and  Min- 
nie to  cross  the  street  to  the  Home,  in  company.  She 
asked  Walter  if  he  was  going  to  the  meeting,  to  which 
be  returned  an  evasive  answer. 

"  And  why  not  ?  "  she   frankly  inquired,  looking 
closely  and  familiarly  in  his    face.     He  stammered 
out  some  excuse,  and  turned  to  go. 
«  Walter !  " 

The  tones  of  her  voice,  now  deeply  earnest  and  sad, 
arrested  him.  She  hesitated  a  moment,  choking  back 
.a  sigh  which  struggled  up  from  her  heavy  heart. 

"Walter !  what  strange  spell  has  been  thrown  over 
you  within  the  last  six  months  ?  Your  acts,  your 
smiles,  your  words  are  not  like  yourself.  Why  do 
you  shun  me  lately  ?  Tell  me,  Walter !  what  have  I 
done  to  merit  it?  It  is  sad  indeed,  if,  in  the  sore 
troubles  that  thicken  around  me,  you  are  to  turn  away. 
Walter  Bray  ton,  you  are  the  soul  of  honor  and  truth, 
and  I  conjure  you,  tell  me  the  reason  of  all  this.  If 
new  troubles  have  come  upott  you,  let  me  know  them 
as  you  once  did.  My  own  are  bitter  enough,  God 
knows  ;  but  I  have  a  heart  to  feel  for  those  of — of — 
my  friends." 
Minnie  choked  and  kept  down  the  endearing  terra 


334:  MINNIE   HERMON. 

•which  came  tip  for  utterance.  Walter's  cold  and  al- 
tered manner  repelled  the  warmth  of  love  which 
•with  her  knew  no  change. 

Like  a  culprit,  Bray  ton  cowered  as  her  words  fell 
upon  him  like  thongs.  There,  before  her,  his  man- 
hood told  -him  that  she  was  all  that  he  had  ever  been 
happy  to  dream  her ;  and  the  first  generous  impulse 
prompted  him  to  tell  her  all,  and  to  ask  her  forgive- 
ness. Then  came  between  him  and  her  the  cold, 
sneering  image  of  Skillott,  and  the  promise  of  a  high 
political  position  at  the  coming  election.  He  felt  that 
lie  had  wronged  her,  and  he  ungenerously  hunted 
fora  justification  of  his  course.  He  was  too  proud 
to  acknowledge  his  error.  Minnie  continued  to  urge 
an  explanation. 

"  Walter,  I  shall  urge  you  no  more.  I  am  not  ig- 
norant of  the  source  of  your  cruel  suspicions.  Your 
mind  has  been  poisoned.  You  have  taken  an  enemy 
—  remember,  Walter,  an  enemy  —  to  your  bosom,  and 
he  will  sting  you,  fatally,  I  fear.  Once  you  would  not 
have  listened  to  a  whisper  against  Minnie  Hermon. 
You  believed  her  all  that  was  pure  and  worthy.  But 
friend  after  friend  of  the  drunkard's  daughter  turns 
away.  To  lose  one  I  have  so  leaned  upon,  is  harder 
than  all.  But  it  matters  not.  With  a  brand  upon 
me,  I  cannot  expect  the  noble  and  the  good  to  remain 
steadfast.  Walter  Brayton !  [and  she  breathed  the 
words  close  to  his  burning  cheek]  I  know  all.  One 
year  ago  you  would  have  crushed  the  viper  who 
would  have  breathed  aught  against  me  Frank  as  I 


STICKING   TO   PAKTY.  335 

ever  have  been,  I  now  say,  with  a  heart  breaking  un- 
der this  last  blow,  I  absolve  you  from  every  vow  to 
me.  I  will  not  stoop  to  counteract  the  poison  of  one 
who  i?  an  enemy  of  us  both.  I  would  yield  my  life 
for  you,  "Walter,  but  I  never  will  defend  myself  from 
slanders  lodged  in  the  mind  of  one  I  would  have 
trusted  in  all  ordeals.  Tour  suspicions  are  cruel,  and 
I  may  say,  unworthy  of  Walter  Brayton,  and  an  affi- 
anced husband.  You  may  not  thank  me  for  what  I 
say  ;  but  as  one  who  has  madly  loved  —  who  will 
love  while  she  lives,  —  one  I  can  only  know  as  a 
friend  — I  warn  you  of  the  evil  designs  of  those  who 
are  luring  you  out  upon  the  treacherous  sea  of  polit- 
ical ambition.  Those  who  tempt,  seek  your  ruin. 
Beware  of  Skillott,  for  he  is  an  enemy  now,  as  he 
ever  has  been.  And  if  you  should  ever  see  the 
day  when  all  false  friends  desert,  the  ill-fated  Min- 
nie Hermon  will  be  a  friend  still.  Generous,  but 
deceived  friend !  with  God's  blessing  upon  you, 
good " 

She  could  not  speak  the  word.  The  deeper  heart- 
tide  of  her  strong  woman's  love  came  like  a  flood  upon 
her,  and  she  wrung  his  hand  and  wept,  and  then  hur- 
ried through  the  hall  to  her  chamber. 

And  darker  still  the  night  around  her.  She  would 
not  have  thus  boldly  released  Brayton  from  his  vows, 
but  she  believed  that,  with  his  opening  prospects  of 
distinction,  he  had  become  ashamed  of  his  connection 
with  the  daughter  bf  one  who  was  now  considered  the 
basest  in  the  community.  She  felt  the  injury,  and 


336  MINNIE  HERMON. 

scorned  to  claim  the  love  of  one  who  appeared  to 
shun  an  alliance  with  a  name  so  branded  by  all. 

"  She  plays  well,"  gravely  remarked  Skillott,  as  he 
emerged  from  the  hall  door.  "  I  was  an  unwilling 
listener  to  your  conversation,  Mr.  Brayton.  Miss 
Ilermon  is  very  willing  to  release  you  from  your  en- 
gagement. There  are  reasons  for  all  things.  Step 
this  way."  Skillott  took  the  arm  of  Brayton,  who 
followed  abstractedly  out  upon  the  stoop,  and  up  a 
pair  of  stairs  into  the  piazza  above.  The  light  came 
from  an  open  window.  As  Skillott  and  Brayton  ap- 
proached  it,  the  former  motioned,  cautioned  and  whis- 
pered "false  —  the  proof"  In  cooler  moments,  Bray- 
ton would  have  scorned  the  act  of  looking  through  an 
open  window  for  such  a  purpose. 

Yet  he  loved  Minnie  Ilermon,  and  the  demon  of 
jealousy  was  again  aroused.  She  almost  wished  to 
find  some  justification  of  his  suspicions,  yet  dreaded 
such  a  result.  As  he  heard  voices  in  the  room,  one 
of  them  masculine  and  the  other  Minnie's,  all  doubts 
of  the  propriety  of  the  act  gave  way  before  the  fe- 
verish anxiety  to  see  and  know  who  was  in  the 
chamber. 

At  a  table  covered  with  books  and  writing  mate- 
rials, sat  the  Hermit,  the  wide-brimmed  hat  removed 
from  the  broad  and  now  handsome-looking  brow,  and 
his  usually  wild  eye  beaming  with  a  mild  and  tender 
light.  Minnie  had  thrown  her  bonnet  upon  the  sofa, 
and  stood  leaning  against  the  book-case,  sobbing  vio- 
lently. The  Hermit  was  asking,  in  kindly  tones,  the 


STICKING   TO   PARTY.  33Y 

cause  of  her  tremble,  and  finally  arose  and  put  his 
arm  around  her  waist,  brushed  her  hair  away  with 
his  hand,  and  imprinted  a  kiss  familiarly  upon  her 
cheek.  She  made  no  effort  to  repel  the  familiarity. 

Brayton  turned  away  with  a  sickening  sensation, 
the  hot  blood  flooding  to  the  cheek  and  again  back 
to  the  heart,  burning  in  the  damning  proof  as  it 
coursed  in  its  throbbing  channels.  As  he  reeled 
towards  the  stairway,  Skillott  glided  to  his  side,  and 
without  a  word  thrust  a  crumpled  paper  into  his  hand 
and  disappeared. 

The  paper  was  a  letter.  Brayton  read  it  again  and 
again,  every  character  a  barb,  leaving  its  rankling 
venom  to  fester  in  his  heart.  It  was  in  the  hand-wri- 
ting of  Minnie  ;  there  could  be  no  mistake.  It  was 
but  farther  confirmation  of  her  falsehood. 

"  Father  stormed  terribly,  when  I  told  him  who 
you  were,  and  made  threats  which  I  will  not  repeat. 
But  he  dare  not  refuse  the  proposition.  I  have  had 
many  fears  lately,  and  it  will  be  a  boon  to  have  one 
near  on  whom  I  can  lean  in  trouble.  You  will  have 
the  room  which  opens  out  upon  the  piazza.  It  is 
close  by  mine,  and  we  can  spend  many  an  hour  to- 
gether, when  there  are  no  suspicious  eyes  to  pry  into 
our  intimacy. 

"  From  your  affectionate 

"  MINNIE." 


338  MINNIE   HEEMON. 

New  emotions  raged  in  Brayton's  bosom.  He  had 
been  deceived,  betrayed.  Minnie  Hermon  was  false. 
The  proof  was  overwhelming ;  and  his  rival  was  that 
canting  hypocrite.  He  crushed  the  letter  in  his  hand, 
and  with  firm-set  teeth,  arose  and  walked  the  room 
until  a  late  hour.  New  that  she  had  proved  faithless 
and  he  saw  her  throwing  herself  away  upon  another, 
he  learned  how  deeply  he  had  loved  her,  and  how 
heavy  the  blow.  He  proudly  determined  to  forget 
her  in  the  pursuit  of  his  ambitious  political  aspirings, 
and  bend  all  his  energies  to  achieve  fame  and  power. 
The  noise  of  his  triumph  might  reach  and  wound  her 
who  had  so  deceived  him. 

There  was  another  night-walker  in  the  neighbor- 
hood. Skillott  had  peered  in  through  the  office  win- 
dow, and  witnessed  the  working  of  his  scheme.  His 
web  was  closing  surely  around  the  victim. 

As  election  approached  the  excitement  in  relation 
to  candidates  increased.  Skillott  was  in  for  the  nom- 
ination for  judge,  and  had  secured  the  support  of 
Brayton,  by  a  promise  to  go  in  for  him  the  next  fall, 
for  representative  to  Congress.  The  temperance  peo- 
ple, too,  must  be  courted.*  Dobbs  was  selected  for 
that  purpose.  Skillott  and  his  clique  knew  him  to  be 
utterly  unprincipled,  and  ambitious  for  a  place.  A 
promise  of  a  nomination  for  the  clerkship  of  the 
county  had  secured  his  influence.  As  many  of  the 
temperance  people  as  he  could  deceive,  was  so  much 
gain.  Halton  being  the  ruling  spirit  among  the 
Washingtonians,  Dobba  approached  him.  Yet  the 


STICKING   TO   PAETT.  339 

old  veteran  was  a  knotty  customer  to  deal  with.  But 
there  were  few  of  the  temperance  people  at  the  cau- 
cuses, and  Skillott  delegates  were  chosen  without 
much  opposition.  The  game  had  been  as  well  man- 
aged throughout  the  county,  and  at  the  convention 
the  ballot  for  Skillott,  as  candidate  for  judge,  was 
very  large,  and,  on  motion  of  Dobbs,  it  was  declared 
"  unanimous."  Many  people  murmured  that  such  a 
man  should  be  presented  for  so  important  an  office  ; 
but  the  machinery  of  party  was  set  in  motion,  and 
there  were  few  at  that  time  that  had  the  moral 
courage  to  openly  rebel  against  his  nomination.  A 
bolter  was  odious.  People  dared  not  reject  a  portion 
of  the  regular  party  ticket.  The  overshadowing  des- 
potism of  party  was  brought  to  bear  upon  every  man. 
who  claimed  the  right  to  act  as  a  freeman  in  the  dis- 
charge of  the  right  of  suffrage. 

"  Well,  Halton,"  said  Dobbs,  one  morning,  after 
the  nominations,  "How  will  your  folks  go?  For 
Skillott,  I  s'pose  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  Halton,  "  how  others 
will  go,  but  I  shall  go  against  him." 

"  What !  and  a  good  Whig,  too  ?  " 

"  Whig  or  no  whig,  I  never  can  go  for  such  a  man 
for  office,  especially  that  of  judge." 

"Why  not?" 

"  I  don't  like  the  man.  His  principles  and  habits 
both  unfit  him  for  the  position." 

"  Well,  I  know  he  is  not  what  you  call  a  radical 
temperance  man ;  but  then,  he  is  a  friend  of  the 


340  MINNIE  HEKMON. 

cause.  But  because  a  man  don't  think  as  we  do,  or 
takes  a  drink  once  in  a  while,  his  own  party  friends 
ought  not  to  turn  against  him  when  he  has  received 
the  nomination." 

"  I  have  my  doubts  about  this  doctrine  of  sticking 
to  party,  right  or  wrong." 

"  If  all  were  to  take  that  ground  at  every  little 
thing  'that  turned  up,  the  party  would  be  broken  upj 
and  no  good  Whig  could  be  elected  to  any  office." 

"  I  very  much  question  whether  there  is  any  ne- 
cessity for  a  party  whose  corruption  is  such  that  the 
worst  men  in  community  are  nominated  for  the  sup- 
port of  honorable  men." 

"  We  cannot  always  expect  the  best  of  men  to  be 
nominated.  It  wont  do  to  draw  the  lines  too  close  in 
these  matters,  or  the  party  cannot  stick  together.  If 
a  man  receives  a  nomination,  his  party  ought  to  sus- 
tain him.  And  besides,  there  are  great  principles  at 
stake.  They  can  only  be  carried  out  by  well  organ- 
ized party  strength.  We  must  go  the  regular  party 
nominations." 

"  When  they  are  secured  by  fraud  ? " 

"  Ahem  !  there  will  be  more  or  less  management  in 
all  nominations.  One  party  does  it,  and  the  other 
must.  It's  all  fair  in  politics  ?  " 

"  And  so  the  commission  of  a  fraud  by  one  party, 
justifies  the  commission  of  another." 

"  Well,  they  are  obliged  sometimes  to  do  it,  yoa 
know,  to  keep  the  party  together." 

"  But  why  not  nominate  good  men,  as  well  as  bad  ? " 


STICKING  TO   PARTY.  341 

"  We  can't  always  do  that.  I  would  be —  ahem  1 
glad  to  see  it  so  ;  but  a  party  is  made  up  of  all  kinds 
of  folks,  and  we  cannot  always  have  things  just  as  we 
want  them.  Our  party  is  a  good  deal  better  about 
such  things  than  the  other  ;  so  it  would  be  no  use  to 
bolt  a  nomination.  It  would  only  injure  the  party 
without  effecting  anything.  I  feel  bound  to  go  the 
regular  nominations." 

"  But  the  way  these  nominations  are  often  made  ia 
an  outrage.  Look  at  Skillott's." 

"  Why,  he  was  nominated  unanimously  ! " 

"  Unanimously  !  and  by  a  convention  of  packed 
delegates." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  packed  delegates  ?  " 

"  I  mean  that  he  and  his  clique  scoured  the  county 
three  weeks  before  the  caucuses,  and  cut  and  dried 
the  whole  concern.  His  nomination  was  secured  be- 
fore the  convention  met,  and  men  only  came  here  to 
go  through  the  farce  of  nominating  him  '  unani- 
mously.' ': 

"  O  well,  everybody  tries  to  get  all  the  delegates 
they  can.  That's  all  right." 

"  Right  to  spend  money,  treat  rum,  and  buy  up  del- 
egates ?  What  kind  of  men  had  he  from  this  village, 
and  how  were  they  selected  ? " 

"  What  of  'em  ? "  briefly  asked  Dobbs,  his  face 
reddening,  for  he  had  been  one  of  Skillott's  delegates. 

"  Sure  enough.  What  of  'em  ?  Rumsellers,  sots, 
gamblers,  libertines,  and  abandoned  characters,  with 
few  exceptions.  You  know  it  as  well  as  I  do.  .And 


34:2  MINNIE   HERMON. 

we  are  bound  to  stick  to  party  nominations  when 
made  by  such  men  !  " 

"  Your  prejudices  are  too  strong,  Halton.  You  are 
Baying  a  good  deal.  The  party  is  not  to  blame  for 
having  bad  men  in  it.  It  ought  not  to  be  held  re- 
sponsible. 

"And  had  honorable  party  men,  then,  ought  to  be 
held  responsible  to  sustain  the  results  brought  about 
by  such  characters  ?  " 

"Why,  I've  seen  nothing  very  bad  —  no  worse 
than  all  parties  do.  We  cannot  better  the  matter  by 
splitting  tickets.  Every  true  party  man  must  go  the 
clean  ticket." 

"  What  do  you  call  a  clean  ticket  ?  " 

"A  regular  ticket,  made  out  by  regular  party  con- 
ventions, where  the  whole  have  a  voice  in  the  matter. 
Every  one  is  bound  to  vote  a  '  clean  ticket.' >: 

"And  so  then,  the  Skillott  ticket  is  a  clean  one  ?  " 

"  Why,  certainly  ;  he's  regularly  nominated.  It  is 
the  regular  ticket." 

"And  we  are  bound  to  vote  for  whoever  is  put  in 
nomination  by  the  party." 

"  Most  certainly,  according  to  all  established 
usage." 

"And  so  if  the  devil  should  be  put  in  nomination 
by  a  party  convention,  a  burglar  or  a  horse-thief,  it 
would  be  a  regular,  '  clean  ticket,'  and  the  party 
would  be  bound  to  go  it." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  compare  Mr.  Skillott  to  a  bur- 
glar or  horse-thief,  I  hope?"  crustily  exclaimed 


STICKING   TO   PARTY.  343 

Dobbs.  getting  nettled  at  the  pointed  questions  of 
Hal  ton. 

"  No  ;  but  he  was  nominated  by  those,  many  of 
them  no  better." 

"Yon  talk  like  a  fool.  It  is  just  such  kind  of 
talk  as  injures  the  cause.  I  am  just  as  much  of  a 
temperance  man  as  anybody,  but  there  is  no  use  in 
acting  like  a  fool." 

"  Better  a  fool  than  a  hypocrite  and  knave,"  coolly 
retorted  Halton. 

"Ahem !  I —  I  did  not  mean  that  you  were  a  fool, 
but  some  people  are  so  ultra  that  they  never  win 
effect  anything." 

"  You  say  you  are  as  much  of  a  temperance  man 
as  anybody.  And  yet  you  all  the  time  go  in  with 
those  who  are  deadly  in  their  hatred  to  our  cause." 

"  O,  they  belong  to  the  party.     I  can't  help  that." 

"  But  you  could  have  helped  going  down  to  the 
*  Columbian,'  among  the  reeking  dens  of  pollution, 
and  in  company  with  state-prison  birds,  brothel  keep- 
ers, and  gambling  vagabonds,  treating  to  liquor,  ma- 
king speeches,  and  manufacturing  votes  for  Skillott's 
caucus.  Was  that  like  a  temperance  man,  Mr. 
Dobbs?" 

"  You  and  your  hot  heads  always  abuse  people,  do- 
ing the  temperance  cause  ten  times  more  hurt  than 
good.  You  are  determined  to  go  to  the  devil." 

"  And,"  continued  Halton,  "  last  Sunday  you  came 
from  church  and  went  into  the  Alhambra  and  drinked 
brandy,  and  talked  politics  with  the  set  that  there 


344  MINNIE   HEKMON. 

herd ;  and  in  the  evening,  again  at  the  Columbian, 
manufacturing  Skillott  delegates.  You  say  that  when- 
ever the  time  comes  to  carry  out  temperance  princi- 
ples, you  will  be  one  of  the  best.  That  means  that 
while  office  and  party  are  to  be  served  by  treating 
whisky,  and  going  regular  nominations,  you  stick  to 
party;  but  when  the  temperance  sentiment  is  the 
strongest,  you  will  be  ready  to  ride  that ! " 

"  You  're  a  set  of  cussed  fools,  all  of  you.  You 
want  to  drag  the  temperance  cause  into  politics  and 
ruin  it  entirely.  Bolt  your  ticket  if  you  want  to,  and 
Bee  what  you  '11  get  if  you  ever  come  up  for  an  office. 
I  would  vote  for  an  out-an-out  rummy  before  I  would 
for  such  ad  —  d  fanatic.  I  have  been  a  temperance 
man  this  —  a  —  this  twenty  years,  and  get  only  abuse 
for  it." 

Dobbs  put  his  unwieldy  hulk  in  rapid  motion  —  a 
persecuted  man,  in  his  own  estimation.  His  temper- 
ance professions  were  only  met  with  abuse.  He  had 
tried  all  he  could  to  keep  temperance  out  of  politica 
and  save  the  cause,  and  his  efforts  were  thus  unappre- 
ciated. Men  would  act  like  fools. 

The  stickler  for  party  nominations  was  in  a  sweat. 
He  wished  to  ride  both  horses,  but  the  fanatics  gave 
him  trouble.  An  hour  after  his  conversation  with 
Halton,  he  could  have  been  found  in  the  Alhambra, 
rehearsing  his  grievances,  and  his  efforts  to  keep  the 
temperance  question  oat  of  politics.  He  never  had 
believed  in  mixing  religion  or  temperance  with  hi# 
politics,  He  never  did. 


STICKING  TO   PARTY.  345 

Skillott's  nomination  was  an  outrage.  The  outrage 
was  consummated  by  his  election.  An  unprincipled 
debauchee. assumed  the  ermine,  and  became  a  minis- 
ter of  the  law.  The  moral  and  Christian  men  of  the 
party  scorned  the  man.  They  knew  him  utterly  un- 
fit for  such  a  position.  His  election  would,  they 
knew,  be  a  disgrace  to  the  Bench,  an  injury  to  .the 
cause  of  good  morals,  and  an  outrage  upon  justice. 
But  there  was  no  way  to  avoid  it.  He  was  nomina- 
ted regularly  by  the  party,  and  party  men  must  sup- 
port him.  Bolters  were  branded  as  worse  than  Judas 
Iscariots,  and  deserving  of  all  the  opprobrium  which 
party  minions  and  the  party  press  could  invoke. 
Deep  and  unending  political  damnation  was  invoked 
upon  the  man  who  dared  to  split  a  ticket.  The  press 
stood  ready  with  thongs  of  bitter  denunciation  to 
scourge  the  hesitating  or  refractory.  The  citizen 
might  boast  of  being  a  freeman,  but  no  Russian  serf 
was  more  a  cringing  slave  to  his  master,  than  he  to 
his  party.  In  the  Oakvale  Daily  Advertiser,  of  the 
day  previous  to  election,  the  following  article  was 
aimed  at  the  "  restless  spirits  "  who  dared  to  talk  of 
voting  as  they  professed : 

"  Upon  the  success  of  the party  depends  the 

adoption  or  rejection  of  those  great  principles  of  na- 
tional and  state  policy  which  have  so  vital  a  bearing 
upon  the  prosperity  of  our  country.  The  opposition 
is  pledged  to  an  unscrupulous  and  vindictive  warfare 

upon  the  best  interests  of  the  Republic.  The 

party  is  emphatically  the  party  of  the  people.  The 


34:6  MINNIE   HEKMON. 

party  is  made  up  of  individuals,  and  each  true 

will  see  the  importance  of  being  true  to  the  time-lion 

ored  faith.     No  true —  will  falter.     Upon  the  nni 

ted  and  undivided  party  the  future  prosperity  of  the 
state  and  nation  depends.  Its  integrity  must  be  pre- 
served. 

"  From  personal  and  petty  piques,  there  are  some- 
limes  found  in  parties,  "  restless  spirits,"  who  wish  to 
carry  their  personal  animosities  into  their  political 

action.     They  wish  to  make  the party  an  engine 

to  carry  out  their  own  selfish  aims.  Great  principles 
are  nothing  to  such  men.  The  integrity  of  the  party 
must  be  periled  to  gratify  their  one  ideaism.  "We 
have  our  eye  upon  some  such  who  have  enjoyed  and 
now  enjoy  good  offices  from  the  party.  They  depend 
upon  the  party  for  their  'bread.  Let  them  vote  any- 
thing but  a  clean  ticket  if  they  dare.  They  are 
watched.  They  will  be  branded  as  renegades  and 
traitors.  They  shall  be  held  up  to  the  execration  of 

all  true ,  and  made  such  an  example  of  as  shall 

be  a  warning  to  all  such  deserters  in  the  future.  Our 
ticket  is  worthy  of  the  hearty  support  of  the  undivi- 
ded   party.  "Watch  the  bolters  —  mark  them. 

They  will  be  dealt  with  hereafter  as  they  deserve.  A 
man  who  will  scratch  his  ticket  is  unworthy  the  name 

of .     When  holding  office,  they  should,  as  apeed- 

ily  as  possible,  be  compelled  to  vacate  for  men  '  who 
will  stand  by  the  party  which  feeds  them.'" 

Thus  were  refractory  party  men  whipped  into  the 
traces,  and  so  despotic  and  potential  was  the  strength 


STICKING  TO   PAETT.  347 

and  terror  of  party  discipline,  that  there  were  few 
men  who  dared  to  face  the  storm.  The  foulest  com- 
binations ever  concocted  in  grog-shop  conclave,  went 
out  to  the  people  endorsed  as  the  regular,  clean  ticket ; 
and  the  blood-hounds  of  party  drill,  fed  on  the  drip- 
pings of  party,  and  expecting  more,  were  unleashed 
to  worry  and  hunt  the  elector  who  supposed  the  right 
of  suffrage  his  own.  A  principle  more  subversive  of 
all  political  independence,  was  never  made  the  shame- 
less bond  of  party  union.  A  slavery  more  humilia- 
ting and  repulsive,  never  was  submitted  to  by  an 
intelligent  and  free  people. 

The  masses  little  knew  of  all  the  means  made  use 
of  to  secure  the  election  of  the  candidates.  Dobbs 
was  not  a  whit  behind  Skillott  in  a  wholesale  corrup- 
tion. Ex-convicts  from  the  prison,  and  keepers  of  no 
torious  establishments  in  Oakvale,  were  put  upon  the 
vigilance  or  challenging  committees.  Fr,,m  the 
funds  collected  from  the  candidates  with  which  to 
"pay  for  printing"  large  sums  were  carried  through 
out  the  county  and  thrown  into  every  bar-room.  In 
Oakvale,  for  a  week  before  the  election,  the  grogger- 
ies  swarmed  with  drunkenness.  Dobbs  and  Skillott 
had  engaged  them  all  in  their  interest,  as  had  the 
other  party,  and  rum  was  as  free  as  water.  What 
rum  would  not  purchase,  money  was  depended  upon 
to  do.  Church  influence  was  invoked.  Skillott  at- 
tended every  Church  in  the  place,  and  gave  to  the 
Missionary  and  Bible  Society.  To  temperance  men 
he  talked  blandly.  He  had  never  found  time  from 


348  MINNIE  HEKMON. 

his  onerous  legal  business  to  make  much  effort  in  sc 
just  a  cause,  but  he  was  a  sincere  well-wisher,  and  if 
elected,  he  should  feel  it  his  duty  to  see  that  the  laws 
were  administered  faithfully.  He  saw  the  poor  and 
the  countryman.  Their  wives  and  families  were  in- 
quired after,  and  they  were  invited  to  his  office,  or  to 
his  house  for  dinner.  The  Irish  vote  was  courted. 
Petty  office-seekers  were  all  promised  assistance  in 
the  future.  Barrels  of  beer,  and  a  supply  of  crackers 
and  cheese,  were  placed  in  all  the  haunts  for  the 
thirsty  and  hungry  democracy.  Notorious  bravadoes 
and  ruffians  were  chartered  to  bark  and  brow-beat. 
The  "  Columbian  "  steamed  night  and  day.  It  was  a 
notorious  "  sweat-pit,"  where  voters  were  made  drunk- 
en by  the  score.  Dobbs  and  Skillott  were  found  there 
all  night.  From  the  communion  at  the  church,  the 
former  went  there  on  the  Sabbath  and  stayed  all  night. 
More  than  thirty-two  voters,  in  one  den,  were  kept 
drunk  over  Sunday  under  lock  and  key,  and  during 
Monday  and  Monday  night ;  and  Tuesday  morning  they 
reeled  to  the  polls,  and  voted  for  Skillott  and  Dobbs. 
The  same  game  was  universal  throughout  the  county. 
Sober  and  worthy  citizens  were  brow-beat  and  chal- 
lenged by  pot-house  ruffians,  or  deterred  from  the 
polls  by  open  violence.  "With  oaths  and  stenching 
breaths,  drunken  men  reeled  and  kissed  the  Bible  as 
they  swore  in  their  votes.  Dobbs  looked  innocently 
upon  every  one,  for  both  parties  did  so,  and  all  was 
fair  in  politics.  At  night  the  groggeries  were  jammed 
with  a  reeling,  cursing,  shouting,  slavering  mass  of — • 


STICKING   TO   PARTY.  349 

yeomanry  ;  and  fightings  and  hideous  3  ellings  filled 
tne  streets  until  a  late  hour.  The  day  had.  been  one 
of  wholesale  drunkenness  and  riot.  At  the  close, 
when  the  result  \vas  learned,  the  successful  candidates 

* 

gathered  in  the  Daily  office  and  talked  complacently 
of  their  personal  popularity,  and  the  corruptions  en- 
tered into  to  defeat  them.  The  Daily  announced  the 
victory  in  glaring  capitals,  and  called  it  one  of  the 
most  overwhelming  triumphs  of  the  campaign.  The 
opposite  party  resorted  to  the  basest  means  to  secure 
their  ends,  but  the  people  were  incorruptible,  and  had 
pronounced  against  them !  An  oyster  supper,  alias, 
a  drunken  jollification,  came  off  at  the  "  Alhambra  " 
in  honor  of  the  result.  Judge  Skillott  was  carried 
home  drunk.  Dobbs  managed  to  attend  the  covenant 
meeting  on  the  following  day,  Saturday,  and  gave 
liberally  to  the  missionary  cause,  sighing  with  much 
sanctity  as  he  leaned  his  head  upon  his  hand.  He 
was  a  popular  man  !  He  had  not  mixed  any  religion 
or  temperance  with  his  politics !  As  a  member  of 
the  executive  county  committee,  he  with  his  col- 
leagues had  secured  a  handsome  suit  of  clothes,  and 
fell  more  than  ever  in  love  with  the  principles  of  the 

great party. 

The  regular  ticket  was  elected.  Professed  temper- 
ance men  and  Christians  had  voted  the  "  clean  ticket." 
The  temperance-professing,  brandy-drinking  hypo- 
crite was  elected  clerk,  and  the  favorite  of  the  grog- 
shop and  brothel,  judge.  The  "clean  ticket"  was 
elected!  The  few  who  murmured  at  such  tickets 


350  MINNIE  HERMON. 

were  whistled  down  as  one-idea  hot-heads,  who  would 
ruin  a  good  cause  by  dragging  it  into  politics.  Tem- 
perance was  a  "  holy  cause,"  but  it  was  lost  the  mo- 
ment its  misguided  friends  forced  it  into  the  political 
arena. 

And  Judge  Skillott  did  enforce  the  law !  The 
keepers  of  the  lowest  groggeries  were  fined  fifty  dol- 
lars each.  A  negro  who  had  sold  whisky  in  a  mis- 
erable shanty,  was  severely  lectured,  fined  twenty -five 
dollars,  and  "  sent  up  "  until  paid.  The  keepers  of 
the  Alhambra,  the  Arland,  the  Home,  etc.,  were  fined 
three  dollars  each,  and  at  night  the  judge  got  drunk 
on  their  liquor ! 

lie  was  elected  on  the  "  dean  ticket !  "  by  those  who 
felt  bound  to  stick  to  party,  and  keep  the  temperance 
cause  out  of  politics !  They  had  helped  the  rum  in- 
terest put  one  of  its  most  unscrupulous  friends  upon 
the  Bench.  The  rumsellers  and  friends  had  all  thrown 
party  aside  in  the  contest  and  stood  by  their  cause. 
The  "  clean  ticket,"  consistent,  party  temperance 
men,  had  joined  with  them  in  carrying  rum  into  pol- 
itics ! 


THE  SIGNATURE  OF  THE  DEAD. 


CHAPTER    XXVII. 

POISON   IN    THE   CUP SIGNATURE   OF  THE   DEAD A 

.  GUEST  NOT   INVITED. 

DEEPER  and  darker  gathered  the  night  around 
Minnie  Ilermon !  The  desertion  and  consequent  cold 
treatment  of  Brayton,  had  struck  down  every  hope 
which  had  cheered  her  in  her  sorrows.  Scarcely  a 
ray  lingered  in  the  gloomy  horizon.  She  did  not  re- 
proach Brayton.  lu  her  chamber,  with  the  darkness 
and  her  own  bitter  thoughts,  she  remembered  him. 
with  the  strength  of  a  love  which  their  separation  had 
not  subdued.  A  gulf  had  opened  between  them,  wi- 
dening every  day.  Hidden  from  him  and  the  world, 
it  burned  more  intensely  upon  the  ruins  of  the  fair 
fabric  it  had  reared  in  the  inmost  heart.  As  it  crum- 
bled away,  the  pure  shrine  sent  up  a  flame  whose 
brightness  would  go  out  only  with  life.  She  saw 
"Walter  crossing  the  first  fatal  circles  of  temptation. 
She  would  have  warned  him,  but  she  felt  that  he 
cared  not  for  her.  Her  thoughts  turned  often  upon 
the  change  in  him  and  his  sentiments  towards  her. 
She  had  not  changed  in  her  love, —  she  wondered  at 
the  change  in  him.  Yet,  through  all  the  ill  which 
was  to  come  upon  him,  Minnie  Hermon,  with  the 


354  MINNIE  HEKMON. 

changeless  fervor  of  a  true  woman's  love,  was  to 
weep  and  pray  for  the  object  of  her  heart's  first  deep 
idolatry. 

Retribution  had  followed  swift  and  close  upon  the 
steps  of  Herinon.  The  dread  bondage  he  had  helped 
to  weave  around  so  many,  had  closed  upon  himself. 
He  had  lifted  to  his  own  lips  the  fatal  .chalice  he  had 
commended  to  his  neighbors.  Such,  in  a  large  ma- 
jority of  cases,  has  been  the  punishment  of  those  who 
deal  in  rum. 

The  old  man,  his  hair  fast  whitening  with  age  and 
troubles,  was  a  drunkard.  One  more  wholly  aban- 
doned to  his  cups,  had  not  gone  from  his  tavern. 
The  farther  he  went,  the  deeper  the  depths  of  degra- 
dation. He  presented  the  complete  and  utter  wreck 
of  a  once  intellectual  and  honorable  man.  All  his 
manhood  had  been  consumed,  and  he  stalked  about 
his  premises,  the  embodiment  of  the  leprous  curse  ho 
had  introduced  and  fostered  in  Oakvale.  His  per- 
sonal appearance  did  not  belie  his  character  and 
habits.  His  slouched,  greasy  looking  hat  and  seedy 
garments — the  face  bloated  and  burning  with  tho 
consuming  hectic  of  constant  dissipation  —  his  eye- 
Jds  eaten  away,  and  the  balls  a  revolting  red,  togeth- 
er with  his  ill-temper  and  listless  movements,  pre- 
sented a  revolting  picture  of  ruin. 

The  Home  had  changed,  as  well  as  its  landlord. 
More  fashionable  taverns  had  taken  the  better  cus- 
tom, and  left  it  but  the  wrecks  of  its  own  making. 
The  sign  was  weather-beaten,  and  the  posts,  rotten  at 


POISON  IN  THE   CUP.  355 

the  ground,  were  settling  over.  The  boards  were  off 
the  shed,  the  doors  unhinged,  and  one  end  of  the 
feeding-trough  split  and  fallen  upon  the  ground.  The 
pum'p  was  useless,  and  grass  began  to  grow  thickly, 
among  the  stones  of  the  platform.  The  stoop  was 
rotting,  and  one  end  had  settled  as  the  wall  beneath 
had  crumbled  away.  Many  of  the  windows  were 
broken,  and  the  whole  appearance  of  the  house  ex- 
ternally, was  ruinous  and  desolate. 

With  this  marked  change  of  circumstances,  came 
a  corresponding  loss  of  character  and  standing.  The 
Home  was  but  the  haunt  of  the  lowest  grades  of  the 
drinking  community.  It  was  licensed,  for  its  custo- 
mers were  voters  as  well  as  those  of  the  Arland  or 
Alhambra.  In  its  dingy  bar-room  the  sots  of  Oak- 
rale  lingered  to  complete  the  work  commenced  in  its 
better  days. 

Minnie  could  not  escape  a  portion  of  the  odium 
which  had  fallen  upon  her  father.  Even  among  the 
drinking  class, the  Home  was  in  bad  repute.  As  its 
mistress,  she  suffered  with  its  waning  fortunes.  De- 
serted by  Brayton,  and  only  known  as  the  daughter 
of  a  drunken  tavern  keeper,  the  better  class  of  so- 
ciety scarcely  ever  troubled  themselves  with  a  thought 
of  the  lonely  girl.  The  disgrace  of  her  father  and 
the  house  was  not  without  its  effect  upon  her.  6he 
felt  that  she  was  neglected,  perhaps  despised,  and 
consequently  shunned  society.  Crimes  worse  than 
selling  liquor  even,  had  been  whispered  against  Her 
mon;  vices  worse  than  drunkenness  were  said  to  hold 


356  MINNIE  HERMON. 

their  revels  at  the  Home.  Shut  mostly  within  its 
doors,  it  was  not  strange  that  scandal  should  fasten  a 
share  of  the  stigma  upon  Minnie.  She  had  often 
been  seen  nights,  threading  the  poorer  streets  of  Oak- 
vale.  Ilad  her  object  been  known,  the  community 
would  have  witnessed  some  of  the  holiest  charities 
which  ever  fell  unheralded  at  the  hearthsides  of  the 
poor  and  needy. 

"With  all  this  unjust  opinion  against  her,  she  still 
clung  to  her  wretched  father.  He  had  rewarded  her 
devotion  to  him,  with  coarse  abuse  and  —  Hows! 
And  in  that  rendezvous  of  the  wretched  and  vile,  her 
pure  spirit  lingered  like  an  angel  in  unbroken  dark- 
ness. 

There  were  few  of  the  drinking  men  of  Oakvale 
who  had  descended  more  rapidly  than  Walter  Bray- 
ton's  father.  He  had  squandered  all  his  property,  and 
was  verging  upon  the  confines  of  pauperism.  He 
and  Walter  had  quarreled  at  an  early  day  about  the 
Home,  and  his  drinking  habits,  and  since  had  had 
but  little  intercourse  with  each  other.  Still  Walter 
had  been  careful  that  his  parent  did  not  suffer  for  any 
of  the  necessaries  of  life.  Suddenly,  good,  or  it  may 
be,  bad  fortune,  came  unexpectedly  to  the  old  man. 
A  bachelor  brother  in  Rhode  Island  died  and  left 
him  a  handsome  little  fortune  of  ten  thousand  dol- 
lars, to  go,  at  his  death,  to  Walter.-  This  was  joyous 
news  to  old  Brayton,  as  well  as  to  his  cronies  and  the 
dealers.  They  judged  right  as  to  the  strength  of  his 
love  of  d^ink,  and  the  hopelessness  of  his  reformation, 


POISON   IN   THE   CUP.  357 

JETalton  arid  his  companions  made  desperate  c/r-i  Hons 
to  save  the  old  gentleman,  but  in  vain.  HowrH  tried 
with  no  better  success.  Walter  met  with  abuse,  his 
father  charging  him  with  an  itching  to  linger  tlie 
money  before  his  time. 

Deeper  drank  Brayton  and  his  companions.  Wild- 
er and  more  devilish  were  their  revels.  Old  Bray- 
ton's  money  was  sown  like  chaff,  for  ten  thousand 
dollars  seemed  to  him  exhaustless.  Pipes  were  lighted 
with  bank-bills,  and  scores  were  treated  by  the  week. 
.Often  dead  drunk  during  these  periods,  hundreds  of 
dollars  were  plundered  from  him  by  his  companions 
and  the  more  abandoned  of  the  dealers,  where  the 
money  was  spent.  Even  the  Arland  and  Alhambra 
were  glad  to  sell  liquor  to  a  man  worth  ten  thousand 
dollars  1  Walter  looked  upon  these  things  with  sor- 
row and  shame,  and  for  a  time  all  his  old  hatred  of 
the  traffic  burned  up  as  hotly  as  ever.  He  made  con- 
stant efforts  to  enlist  the  societies  for  the  reclamation 
of  the  old  man.  Every  effort  failed,  and  in  six  weeks 
time  nearly  one  half  of  the  ten  thousand  dollars  had 
been  squandered  or  stolen  by  the  harpies  who  hung 
around  him. 

Skillott,  through  the  confidence  of  Walter,  had 
learned  all  the  circumstances  of  the  legacy,  and  his 
eyes  glistened  as  schemes  for  its  possession  were 
planned  in  his  mind.  It  was  now  wasting,  and,  should 
any  of  it  be  left,  Walter  was  the  last  man  he  would 
wish  to  have  it.  While  pushing  for  the  judgeship, 
he  had  held  out  the  post  of  a  representative  to  Con- 


358  MINNIE   HEKMON. 

gress  to  "Walter.  Skillott  determined  to  push  for  the 
post  himself,  and  the  possession  of  wealth  by  the  vic- 
tim might  foil  all  his  plans. 

Skillott  did  not  visit  the  Home  save  late  in  the  eve 
nings.  It  was  in  bad  repute,  and  the  demagogue 
wished  to  retain  the  semblance  of  respectability. 
Every  night,  at  a  late  hour,  however,  he  was  found  at 
Hermon's.  He  did  not  always  see  Minnie  ;but  when- 
ever he  could  get  an  opportunity,  he  assumed  unwon- 
ted grace  and  essayed  to  appear  devoted  in  his  atten- 
tions. She  shunned  him,  and  recoiled  from  his  honeyed 
words  as  from  the  hiss  of  a  viper,  hardly  concealing 
the  deep  and  unconquerable  dislike  she  felt  towards 
the  man.  An  utter  stranger  to  the  honorable  of  the 
sex,  Skillott  was  a  sneering  skeptic  about  their  being 
such  among  women,  and  he  did  not  in  the  least  aban- 
don his  base  designs  against  Minnie.  He  loved  her 
not.  Her  sharp  and  scornful  repulses  to  his  sickening 
flatteries,  had  stung  him  until  he  was  maddened. 
Vindictive  and  withering  in  his  hate  against  man  or 
woman,  as  well  as  fiery  and  ungovernable  in  his  pas- 
sions, he  seldom  commenced  his  approaches,  but  what 
he  accomplished  the  ruin  of  his  victim.  Could  he 
grasp  Minnie  and  Walter  both  in  his  net,  the  triumph 
would  be  a  double  one.  "  He  would  not  be  foiled  by 
old  Ilennon's  daughter,"  he  muttered  as  he  turned 
across  the  street  on  his  way  to  the  Home. 

As  Skillott  entered  the  hall  he  met  Minnie  going 
out. 

"  Ah  !  Miss  Hermon  —  beg  your  pardon,  but  like 


POISON  IN  THE   CUP.  »*  359 

the  miller  of  a  summer  night,  I  am  constantly  drawn 
to  the  flame,"  spoke  the  lawyer,  in  his  blandest  tones, 
and  with  a  touch  of  assumed  tenderness.  With  a 
cold  inclination  of  the  head,  Minnie  stood  back  for 
him  to  pass  in,  and  through  the  right  door  to  the  bar- 
room. Shutting  the  street  door  he  still  stood  with  his 
back  against  it,  and  looked  close  in  her  face.  She 
recoiled,  and  asked  to  be  permitted  to  pass. 

"  Do  not  be  thus  cold  to  one  who  takes  a  deep  in- 
terest in  your  welfare.  I  would  be  a  friend  to  you, 
Miss  Hermon,"  continued  Skillott,  in  low  tones. 
There  was  a  strange  and  thrilling  influence  in  them 
which  sent  a  chill  over  his  listener.  She  felt  that 
that  burning  gaze,  peculiar  to  the  man,  was  fastened 
upon  her,  and  turned  to  leave  him. 

"  No,  no,  Miss  Hermon,  you  must  not  leave  so.  If 
I  have  offended,  it  has  been  from  excess  of  regard. 
Surely  a  lovely  girl  like  yourself  would  not  go  into 
the  street  at  this  time  of  night  without  a  protector." 

"  I  need  none,  sir,"  briefly  replied  Minnie,  as  she 
now  stepped  to  go  out  of  the  door  which  Skillott  had 
moved  away  from. 

"  Nay,  sweet  girl,  but  you  do.  One  like  you  should 
have  one  friend.  I  should  be  happy  to  be  smiled  up- 
on by  one  whom  an  unworthy  friend  has  abandoned." 

"  Let  me  pass,  sir.  Your  language  and  manner  are 
insulting." 

"  Not  so  hasty,  Miss.  I  think  too  much  of  you  tc 
insult  you."  Then  bending  closely  to  Minnie,  he 

whispered  words  which  we  will  not  repeat. 
15 


360  **       MINNIE   HEKMON. 

"  You  're  a*  villain !  Hands  off,  sir  I  Coward  — 
help  !  " 

There  was  a  glancing  shadow  in  the  dim  light,  and 
Skillott  received  a  blow  which  felled  him  to  the  floor. 
As  the  revelers  came  out  of  the  bar-room,  he  was 
found  insensible.  He  was  taken  up,  and  after  a  time 
came  to  himself.  No  one  had  been  seen  in  the  hall, 
and  Skillott,  believing  that  it  was  Minnie  who  gave 
him  the  blow,  stated  that  he  fell  as  he  entered,  from 
catching  his  toe  on  the  threshold.  Minnie  had 
scarcely  heard  the  blow  and  the  fall  of  Skillott,  be- 
fore she  was  lifted  like  a  child,  and  noiselessly  borne 
up  the  stairs  by  a  strong  arm.  Minnie  felt  keenly 
this  gross  insult  in  her  own  house.  It  was  suggestive 
of  many  a  bitter  thought. 

With  a  vow  of  revenge  for  the  blow  and  the  in- 
sulting repulse,  Skillott  dismissed  the  matter  from  his 
mind  as  he  noticed  the  progress  of  matters  in  the 
bar-room.  The  elder  Brayton  and  some  two  or  three* 
others  were  present,  and  all  drunk.  At  the  sugges- 
tion of  Skillott,  the  others  were  prevailed  upon  to 
leave,  under  pretense  of  closing  the  house.  Brayton 
was  too  good  a  customer  to  be  thus  turned  out,  and 
was  left  snoring  by  the  fire-place,  his  chin  dropping 
upon  his  breast. 

For  a  long  time  Skillott  and  Hermon  conversed  in 
whispers  across  the  counter,  the  latter  drunk  enough 
to  be  a  blind  tool  of  the  cool-headed  lawyer. 

"  Brayton  is  making  a  complete  fool  of  himself. 
It  is  too  bad." 


POISON   IN   THE   CUP.  361 

"  Yes ;  lie  can't  stand  it  long  so." 

"  How  he  wastes  money  !  " 

"  Yes ;  it  goes  like  dirt.  He  will  very  soon  run 
through  it." 

"How  much  do  you  s'pose  he  has  left  of  the 
legacy  ? " 

"  Half  on't,  like  enough ;  may  be  more  —  don't 
know!" 

"  Too  bad  to  have  him  squander  it  so  —  don't  do 
anybody  any  good." 

"It's his  own." 

"  Just  so,"  blandly  answered  Skillott.  "  But  such 
men  as  Jud  Lane  and  Mike  Henry  are  getting  more 
than  their  share  of  it."  The  bait  took,  and  a  slight 
smile  crept  coldly  over  Skillott's  countenance,  as  he 
watched  the  effects  of  his  words  upon  Hermon. 

"  It  would  be  a  kindness,  would  some  trusty  friends 
take  charge  of  his  money  and  keep  it  for  him"  The 
lawyer  still  watched  Hermon  keenly,  as  he  assumed 
a  careless  tone  and  air,  drumming  with  his  fingers  ou 
the  counter.  Hermon  made  no  response,  and  Skillott 
continued : 

"  I'll  warrant  Jud  Lane  has  taken  a  good  share, 
and  he  never  has  done  one-hundredth  part  as  much 
for  Brayton  as  you  have" 

Hermon  did  not  see  the  sneer  that  lingered  around 
Skillott's  lips  as  he  spoke  the  last  words,  but  began 
to  be  aroused  by  the  crafty  words  of  the  Judge.  Jud 
Lane  was  getting  too  much  of  old  Brayton's  ten 
thousand  dollars !  The  judge  noted  the  kindling  of 


'362  MINNIE   HEEMON. 

the  landlord's  avarice  and  continued,  forcing  a  yawn, 
and  still  drumming  carelessly  upon  the  counter: 

"  You  would  have  done  the  old  man  a  great  kind- 
ness, as  well  as  Walter,  if  you  had  always  taken  his 
money  when  he  is  in  one  of  his  drunken  sprees,  and 
kept  it  from  those  that  plunder  him."  Still  no  re- 
sponse from  Hermon. 

"  Indeed,  I  have  blamed  you  because  you  have 
not.  It  is  not  doing  as  you  would  be  done  by." 

"I  —  I  —  ahem  ! — I  —  have  occasionally  taken  — 
care  of  money  for  him.  I  thought  I'd  better  take 
it  than  to  have  him  waste  it.  He  don't  take  care  of 
his  money  at  all." 

"  Eight,  Mr.  Hermon,"  and  Skillott's  eye  glittered. 
"Right.  I  had  thought  as  judge,  of  ordering  the 
same  thing,  but  I  feared  "Walter  would  not  like  it. 
How  much  have  you  saved  him  ?  Enough  to  do  him 
some  good  when  the  rest  is  spent,  I  hope." 

"  Why  —  a —  about  —  let  me  see :  a  quite  a  sum. 
It  would  have  all  been  lost  if  I  hadn't  got  it  laid 
away  for  him." 

"  Four  or  five  hundred  dollars,  perhaps  ? "  and  he 
whistled  as  he  looked  leisurely  about  the  room  and 
tapped  the  tips  of  his  fingers  together. 

"  Yes  —  about  that,  I  s'pose,"  replied  Hermon,  com- 
pletely won  by  the  careless  manner  of  Skillott.  The 
latter  had  not  lost  a  single  word  or  expression  of  the 
landlord's  face.  Assuming  a  confidential  air,  and 
drawing  closer  to  Hermon,  he  continued  : 

"Between  you  and  me,  Hermon  —  this  between 


POISON   IN   THE   CUP.  363 

ourselves,  you  know — it  has  been  talked  over  by  a 
few  of  old  Brayton's  friends,  and  concluded  that  it  is 
best  to  devise  some  plan  to  save  his  property.  As  I 
am  judge,  and  have  his  confidence,  the  whole  matter 
has  been  entrusted  to  my  arrangement.  Knowing 
that  you  and  he  were  intimate,  we  thought  it  best  to 
ask  your  assistance.  As  it  is,  the  ten  thousand  dol- 
lars will  not  last  him  a  year.  And  then,  if  he  dies, 
there  is  another  trouble.  I  would  not  wish  it  noised 
about,  for  he  is  a  friend  of  mine  ;  but  it  is  a  sad  truth 
that  Walt  has  got  so  he  steams  it,  and  if  the  money 
falls  into  his  hands,  it  will  go  the  same  way  that  it  is 
now  going.  So  we  have  concluded  that  you  and  I 
get  the  old  man  to  put  his  money  into  our  hands  for 
safe  keeping.  It  is  the  only  way  it  can  be  saved  ;  for 
otherwise  Jud  Lane  will  have  it,  as  sure  as  fate.  Now 
the  plan  we  propose  is  this,"  continued  Skillott,  in 
whispers,  laying  the  finger  of  his  right  hand  carefully 
in  the  palm  of  the  left.  "  We  will  get  him  to  sign 
writings,  (I've  got  them  here  in  my  pocket,)  deeding 
to  us  all  his  property  for  safe  keeping,  carrying  the 
impression  that  it  is  as  security  for  moneys  borrowed. 
We  are  then  to  give  him  small  sums,  or  ourselves  pay 
his  expenses,  and  keep  charge  of  the  money.  Thus 
you  see  we  should  have  the  use  of  the  money  as  long 
as  he  should  live,  and  he  could  not  spend  it  around 
town.  He  could  board  here,  and  you  could  have  the 
pay  for  his  board  and  grog.  I  think  this  a  good  plan." 
"  Most  certainly  I  do.  Jud  Lane  cannot  then  plun- 
der him,"  and  Hermon  rubbed  his  hands  at  the 


364  MENNIE   EfcRMON. 

thouglit.  That  snaky  smile  again  crept  around  the 
corners  of  Skillott's  mouth. 

"  Now  it  seems  to  me  we  shall  not  have  a  better 
time  than  to-night.  It  is  necessary  for  his  good  that 
it  be  done  soon — the  sooner  the  better.  Have  you 
a  room  where  we  shall  not  be  interrupted  ?  " 

"  The  back  chamber." 

"  Just  so  ;  that  will  do.  We  shall  not  be  interrupt- 
ed there,  probably  ? " 

"  Not  at  this  time  o'night." 

"  "We  must  not  be ;  because,  you  see,  it  is  highly 
important  that  the  thing  be  nicely  managed.  Better 
take  pen  and  ink  up  there." 

As  Ilermon  came  back,  Skillott  still  stood  drumming 
carelessly  upon  the  counter,  and  old  Brayton  sat  sno- 
ring by  the  hearth.  The  light  burned  dimly  in  the 
bar-room,  and  the  noise  of  tramping  feet  had  long 
since  ceased  in  the  street.  The  windows,  only,  were 
heard  as  they  rattled  in  the  fitful  gusts  which  puffed 
around  the  Home. 

"  Now,"  said  Skillott,  ''  we  must  awake  him,  and 
arouse  him  with  a  glass  of  brandy,  and  then  persuade 
him  up  stairs  to  bed.  Pour  out  the  brandy,  and  as 
you  lift  him  up  I  will  hand  it  to  you." 

Ilermon  passed  around  and  shook  Braytou  by  the 
shoulder,  awakening  him  froni  his  drunken  slumber 
with  much  difficulty.  While  he  was  doing  so,  Skil- 
lott emptied  the  contents  of  a  vial  into  the  brandy, 
and  then  handed  it  to  Ilermon,  who  had  just  got  the 
dozy  drunkard  upoi-his  feet.  He  made  no  objectiona 


POISON   IN   THE   CUP.  365 

fco  the  brandy,  and  after  much  coaxing,  was  persua- 
ded to  let  them  assist  him  up  to  bed.  Skillott,  before 
leaving  the  bar-room,  took  the  precaution  to  lock  the 
doors.  On  reaching  the  chamber,  Skillott  commenced, 
in  blandest  tones,  to  induce  the  drunken  man  to  sign 
the  paper  presented  to  him.  The  man  stared  vacantly 
as  the  pen  was  put  into  his  hand,  with  the  statement 
that  the  paper  was  a  receipt  for  money  they  had  bor- 
rowed of  him,  which  they  now  wished  to  pay  him. 
Mechanically,  Brayton  put  his  hand  where  directed, 
but  was  evidently  too  drunk  to  understand  what  he 
was  about,  or  to  write  his  name  alone.  A  gust  of 
wind  slammed  the  window  blind  furiously,  startling 
both  parties  abruptly.  Skillott  moved  to  the  window, 
but  on  Hermon  assuring  him  that  the  window  could 
not  be  reached  save  from  the  ground,  he  fastened  the 
blinds  and  returned  to  the  drunken  man.  As  the 
hand  was  again  placed  upon  the  paper,  Brayton  ut- 
tered a  cry  of  pain,  and  doubled  convulsively  in  his 
chair.  There  was  a  slight  paleness  around  Skillott's 
mouth,  and  Hermon  looked  on  with  astonishment. 

"  What  was  in  your  brandy  ? "  asked  the  Judge, 
with  his  eye  fastened  keenly  upon  the  landlord. 

"  Nothing.  Why  do  you  ask  ? "  answered  Hermon 
with  a  troubled  countenance. 

"  It  is  queer  that  he  should  have  convulsions.  Is 
he  subject  to  them?" 

"  Not  that  I  ever  knew  of." 

"  Then  I  fear  he  is  going  to  have  the  delirium-tre- 
mens.  He  will  arouse  the  whole  neighborhood,  and 


366  MINNIE   IIEKMON. 

probably  die  before  the  property  is  safe  where  Walt 
cannot  spend  it." 

"  Coire,  Brayton,  sign  the  receipt ;  I  must  go 
home."  Again  the  pen  was  put  into  the  man's  hand, 
but  his  agony  was  now  evidently  excruciating.  He 
writhed  in  convulsions,  doubling  down  on  his  stom- 
ach, and  howling  in  agony. 

"This  must  not  be  ;  he  will  injure  himself,3'  said 
Skillott.  "  We  must  hold  him  on  the  bed,  and  keep 
the  paroxysms  down  until  he  is  quiet.  If  he  shrieks 
it  will  make  him  worse.  Take  hold  of  his  feet  — 
quick." 

As  the  two  tossed  Brayton  upon  the  bed,  he  strug- 
gled and  shrieked  until  Skillott's  blood  ran  cold. 
But  it  was  too  late  to  retreat.  He  threw  himself  upon 
Brayton,  and  told  Hermon  to  put  the  pillow  over  his 
head  and  hold  it  down.  "  It  would  keep  him  from, 
exhausting  himself." 

Hermon  did  as  ordered,  but  the  united  strength  of 
the  two  could  not  hold  Brayton  still.  With  a  howl 
of  pain,  he  hurled  them  upon  the  floor  and  sprang 
into  the  middle  of  the  room,  writhing  and  doubling, 
and  the  froth  bubbling  from  the  mouth.  lie  stared 
wildly  at  Skillott  and  Hermon. 

"  In  God's  name,  what's  the  matter  of  me.  Call 
a  doctor  quick,  or  I  can't  live.  O  dear  —  merciful 
God  !  there  is  fire  in  my  bowels.  Water  !  quick !  for 
God's  sake  —  WATER  I  " 

He  shrieked  again  as  the  paroxysm  took  him. 
With  desperate  energy  Skillott  leaped  upon  him,  and 


POISON  m  THE  CUP.  367 

thrust  his  handkerchief  into  his  mouth,  and  with  al- 
most superhuman  strength,  again  threw  him' on  the 
bed.  The  pillow  was  again  held  down  upon  Brayton's 
%ce ;  Skillott  pressed  upon  him  with  all  his  strength. 

Weaker  grew  the  man,  and  less  violent  his  convul- 
sions. Half-smothered  shrieks,  and  prayers,  and  cries 
for  breath  and  water,  came  from  under  the  pillow, 
even  with  Hermon's  weight  upon  it.  A  fierce,  con- 
vulsive shiver  ran  over  the  trunk  and  limbs  ;  they 
slowly  straightened  out  as  Skillott  relaxed  his  grasp  ; 
the  deep  chest  heaved  fearfully  for  breath,  and  Bray- 
ton  lay  still. 

"  Quick,  now,  before  the  paroxysm  comes  on  again 
—  the  pen  and  light." 

Hermon  removed  the  pillow  and  handed  them,  as 
ordered.  Skillott  had  raised  Brayton  to  a  sitting  po- 
sition. 

"  Here,  Hermon,  let  him  lean  upon  you  ;  he  is  weak 
after  such  fits.  Come,  Brayton,  sign  the  papers,  and 
then  you  can  sleep.  Ah  !  I  see  ;  your  hand  trembles. 
Let  me  aid  you." 

Skillott  placed  his  hand  upon  Bray  ton's,  and  guided 
the  fingers  while  they  traced  "Gerald  Brayton" 

"  There,"  said  Skillott,  "  we  will  not  trouble  you 
more  — you  can  lie  down,"  and  the  Judge  laid  Bray- 
ton carefully  back  upon  the  pillow. 

"  Horrible  distemper  —  that  ddirium-tremens.  He 
needs  rest  and  quiet.  Come  out  right  in  the  morn- 
ing, I  guess.  Well  enough  to  call  in  early,  but  would 
not  disturb  him  during  the  night. ' 


368  -  MINNIE   IIERMON. 

Covering  Bray  ton  with  the  quilts,  the  two  went 
down. 

The  dead  was  alone  !  Could  the  countenance  of  the 
corpse  have  been  seen  as  it  sat  on  the  bed,  and  by  the 
aid  of  the  living  traced  its  signature  ;  the  glassy  eyes 
protruding  with  dying  agony,  and  glaring  upon  va- 
cancy ;  the  distorted  features,  and  the  mouth  foaming, 
with  here  and  there  flecks  of  blood ;  the  close-shut 
teeth,  the  throat  and  bosom  bare  as  it  had  been 
stripped  in  the  scuffle,  and  the  hair  clammy  and  mat- 
ted on  the  damp  and  ghastly  —  the  picture  of  all  that 
is  horrible  in  a  death  of  keenest  agony,  would  have 
been  presented. 

As  Hermon  turned  the  key  in  the  chamber  door, 
the  slamming  of  the  blinds  and  the  increasing  wind 
alone  disturbed  the  silence  of  the  chamber.  Swiftly 
Skillott  sped  along  the  deserted  streets  to  his  home. 

Two  hours  later,  and  the  window  in  the  chamber 
where  tho  struggle  had  been,  was  carefully  raised, 
and  a  dark  shadow,  undefined  in  the  dim  starlight, 
glided  into  the  room  and  pulled  a  small,  dark  lantern 
from  a  loose  robe  which  he  wore  around  him.  Slowly 
and  silently  he  peered  towards  the  bed,  and  then  step- 
ped noiselessly  to  the  head  of  it.  He  leaned  down 
and  looked  closely  into  the  face  of  the  corpse.  He 
lifted  the  lamp  still  nearer,  and  laid  the  back  of  hia 
hand  against  the  cheek.  He  recoiled  at  the  touch  ; 
but  again  and  again,  and  still  more  searchingly  looked 
down  into  the  ghastly  features,  thrusting  his  hand  into 
the  bosom  to  feel  the  heart.  He  then  lifted  the  pil- 


POISON   IN   THE  CUP.  369 

low  and  turned  it  over.  It  was  wet  with  a  slimy 
froth,  and  streaked  with  blood.  He  seemed  to  come 
to  some  satisfactory  conclusion  about  the  matter,  and 
dropping  the  hand  which  he  had  lifted  from  the  quilt, 
stood  erect.  There  was  a  dark  glitter  in  his  eye,  and 
a  paleness  around  his  sternly  closed  mouth.  A  new 
thought  seemed  to  occupy  his  attention,  and  he  glided 
to  the  door,  but  found  it  locked.  With  a  key  from 
his  own  pocket  he  unlocked  it,  and  after  listening, 
passed  down  and  into  the  bar-room.  In  the  excite- 
ment of  the  time,  Hermon  had  set  the  glass  from 
which  Brayton  drank  back  upon  the  counter,  and 
forgotten  to  rinse  and  put  it  in  the  usual  place.  It 
now  stood  where  he  left  it.  The  Hermit,  for  it  was 
he,  took  it  in  his  hand,  and  after  smelling  it  closely, 
looked  steadily  into  the  bottom.  As  he  stirred  the 
strange-looking  sediment  with  his  fore-finger,  he  ex- 
claimed with  low,  yet  bitter  energy,  "  Oh  !  ho  !  dear 
friends.  Poison  in  the  cup,  indeed !  And  the  mur- 
derers are  not  all  hung  yet !  "  He  stood  a  moment  in 
thought,  and  then  carefully  securing  the  glass,  rec'n- 
tered  the  hall  and  disappeared  up  the  stairs.  The 
key  was  turned  in  the  door  of  the  back  chamber,  and 
the  Hermit  was  again  alone  with  the  dead. 


CHAPTEE  XXYIII. 

TWO   MORNING    CALLS A   LIVE   MAN    FOB   A   DEAD   ONE. 

DAYLIGHT  had  scarcely  dawned,  when  there  was  a 
loud  rap  at  Skillott's  door.  Again  and  again  it  was 
repeated,  each  successive  time  with  increased  energy. 
It  was  an  unwelcome  sound,  and  for  a  time  he  feigned 
slumber.  Guilt  is  ever  fearful,  and  trembles  at  the 
sound  of  every  footfall. 

As  the  noise  increased,  Skillott  threw  on  his  morn- 
ing gown  and  opened  the  door,  and  somewhat  bluntly 
demanded  the  cause  of  the  interruption.  He  stared 
as  he  saw  Hermon  standing  before  him,  but  it  was 
momentary.  As  blandly  as  usual,  after  affecting  a 
yawn,  he  inquired  what  was  wanting  at  so  early  an 
htmr. 

Hermon  was  the  picture  of  embarrassment.  His 
flame-red  face  was  haggard,  his  manner  stealthy  and 
uneasy,  and  his  eye  restless.  Turning  his  eye  up  the 
street  to  assure  himself  that  he  was  unobserved,  he 
darted  through  the  half-opened  door,  and  closed  it  as 
he  entered.  Placing  his  back  against  it,  he  stood 
looking  Skillott  beseechingly  in  the  face. 

"  Why,  man,  what  is  the  matter  —  what  is  want- 
ing ? "  again  asked  Skillott,  with  a  well-assumed  ail 
of  fretfulness  at  so  unceremonious  an  interruption. 


TWO   MORNING   CALLS.  371 

"Brayton  is  dead!  "  whispered  Hermon,  in  a  husky- 
voice,  after  looking  around  to  see  if  no  one  but  them- 
selves was  in  the  hall. 

"  Ah  !  indeed !     Died  last  night,  eh  ?  " 

"  Found  him  dead  before  daylight  this  morning. 
The  body  was  cold,"  and  a  shudder  crept  over  the 
hardened  landlord. 

"  That  fit  of  tremenSj  then,  must  have  finished  the 
old  man." 

"Are  you  sure  —  are  you  sure,  Skillott,  that  he  died 
of  the  tremens?"  eagerly  asked  Hermon  in  an  ap- 
pealing tone. 

"  Why,  how  else  could  he  have  died  ?  A  man  of 
his  age  cannot  drink  as  hard  as  he  did,  and  stand  it 
long,  Mr.  Hermon." 

There  yet  remained  something  upon  Hermon's 
mind,  and  he  lingered.  Skillott  made  a  gesture  of 
impatience,  and  suggested  that,  as  the  matter  did  not 
concern  him,  he  had  better  send  for  Walter  or  the 
coroner. 

"  But,"  continued  Hermon,  with  an  air  of  abstrac- 
tion, "s'posing  they  should  attempt  to  show  he  didn't 
die  of  the  tremens  j  what  do  you  s'pose  would  come 
of  it?" 

"  Nonsense,  man  ;  one  would  suppose  your  liquor 
killed  him,  and  that  you  expected  to  be  hung  for  it, 
from  your  manner." 

A  slight  shudder  again  crept  over  Hermon,  and 
the  sweat  stood  out  in  drops  upon  his  forehead  and 
upper  lip.  Skillott  grew  confident,  as  the  drift  of  the 


372  MINNIE   IIERMON. 

former's  fears  became  apparent,  and  as  quickly  formed 
his  plan  with  which  to  hold  the  landlord  hereafter. 

"  But  liquor  would  not  poison  a  man,  you  know,'' 
placing  a  strange  emphasis  upon  the  word. 

"  You  know  best  whether  there  was  any  poison  in 
the  liquor  ;  I  saw  you  give  it  to  him." 

"  But  you  told  me  to  give  him  the  brandy." 

"  But  I  did  not  suppose  it  was  poisoned.  It  cer- 
tainly was  not  ?  "  Hermon  started  at  the  question. 

"  You  know  I  have  enemies,  Skillott,  and  as  ho 
died  in  my  house,  they  might  say  unpleasant  things, 
you  know  ;  and  besides,  his  signing  over  his  property 
to  you  and  me  wouldn't  help  the  matter." 

"  O,  I'll  see  to  that  matter  ;  the  property  shall  not 
injure  you."  There  was  a  smile  lurking  around  the 
mouth  of  the  Judge  as  he  gave  the  assurance. 

"As  to  that  matter,  it  would  injure  you  as  well  as 
me,  both  having  an  interest  in  it." 

"  Between  you  and  me,  Hermon,"  replied  Skillott, 
"  I  feared  the  man  was  on  his  last  legs,  and  knowing 
that  you  had  many  and  bitter  enemies  who  would 
make  a  handle  of  his  death  in  your  house,  I  thought 
it  best,  on  the  whole,  to  have  the  conveyance  made  out 
in  my  name.  There  are  not  many  who  have  knowl 
edge  of  the  fact ;  but  the  truth  is,  I  have  lent  old 
Brayton  a  good  deal  of  money  within  a  few  years 
past.  It  would  be  but  right,  you  know,  that  I  should 
make  sure  of  what  he  had  left." 

"  You  —  you  don't  mean  to  say  that  I  am  not  to 
have  a  share  —  to  have  charge  of  the  property !  " 


TWO   MOKNING   CALLS.  3V3 

"  Precisely,"  blandly  answered  the  Judge.  "That 
is  best,  you  know,  until  the  storm  about  his  dying  in 
your  house  blows  over." 

"  You  didn't  say  anything  last  night  about  his 
owing  you." 

"  Nor  did  I  give  him  that  last  drink"  whispered 
Skillott,  a  slight  sneer  creeping  across  the  upper  lip. 

"  But  you  told  me  to  give  it  to  him,"  replied  the 
landlord,  deprecatingly. 

"I  did  not  tell  you  to  put  poison  in  the  glass, 
though  !  " 

Hermon  fairly  jumped,  a  more  ominous  paleness 
spreading  over  his  countenance.  He  stood  a  moment, 
and  some  of  his  old  spirit  came  to  his  aid. 

"Neither  did  I,  sir,  as  perhaps  others  can  testify," 
he  retorted  with  considerable  energy  and  meaning, 
pulling  a  paper  from  his  side  pocket  and  thrusting  it 
into  Skillott's  palm.  He  watched  the  Judge  as  the 
latter  traced  the  contents.  The  usual  sneer  passed 
off  his  features  as  he  read,  and  he  drew  his  under  lip 
thoughtfully  between  his  teeth.  Hermon  was  not  so 
far  broken  down  intellectually,  as  not  to  mark  the 
change  in  Skillott's  manner.  The  note  ran  thus  : 

"  I  have  drinked  my  last  at  the  Home.  There  was 
poison  in  the  cup,  and  I  died  by  violence  !  The  dead 
sign  no  papers?  Old  Brayton  is  dead,  but  the  mur- 
derers are  not  hung  yet ! 

"  A.  GUEST  NOT  INVITED." 


374  MINNIE   HERMON. 

» 

"And  you  thought  to  frighten  me  by  penning  such 
stuff  as  this,"  sneered  the  Judge  as  he  finally  lifted 
his  eyes  from  the  paper. 

"  It's  false  —  I  had  no  more  to  do  with  penning  it 
than  you  did,"  answered  Hermon  with  spirit. 

"  Where  did  it  come  from,  then  '?  I  should  like  to 
know ! " 

"  I  found  it  in  the  dead  man's  fingers  !  " 

"  The  devil !  How  could  that  be  ?  "  bluntly  asked 
the  Judge,  without  the  usual  sneer,  again  and  more 
tightly  drawing  his  under  lip  between  his  teeth,  and 
resting  his  hand  upon  a  chair,  his  gaze  still  fastened 
upon  the  paper. 

"  You  can  tell  as  well  as  I,"  doggedly  answered  the 
landlord,  regaining  confidence,  as  he  noticed  the  eifect 
of  the  note  upon  Skillott. 

"The  dead  can't  write,"  mused  the  Judge,  looking 
long  and  closely  still  upon  the  paper. 

"  But  he  might  not  have  been  dead  when  we  left 
him.  The  pen  and  ink  were  left,  you  know." 

"  It  is  strange,  strange,"  continued  Skillott,  with 
marked  uneasiness  in  his  features. 

After  leaving  Brayton,  on  the  previous  evening, 
Hermon  had  become  disturbed  in  his  mind  about  his 
appearance.  It  did  not  seem  to  him  like  the  delirium- 
tremens.  He  was  troubled  with  the  thought  of  hia 
death  in  his  house,  and  before  daylight,  lighted  his 
candle  and  entered  the  chamber.  Brayton  lay  as 
they  had  left  him,  save  one  hand,  which  was  acmsa 
the  breast.  The  landlord  listened  to  catch  the  sound 


TWO   MORNING   CALLS.  375 

oi  his  breathing ;  but  all  was  still.  -With  a  quicker 
pulse  he  then  stepped  to  the  bedside  and  let  the  light 
fall  upon  the  face.  It  was  ghastly,  distorted,  horri- 
ble !  He  placed  his  fingers  upon  Brayton's.  A  shud 
der  crept  from  the  dead  over  the  living,  and  Hermon 
drew  back.  At  that  moment  his  eye  rested  upon  the 
paper  in  the  dead  man's  fingers  which  he  carried  to 
Skillott.  Hermon  left  the  room  with  a  trembling 
step,  and  immediately  sought  the  glass  which  he  had 
left  on  the  counter,  but  it  was  gone.  At  early  light 
he  had  hurried  to  Skillott's  for  advice. 

"  Humph  !  This  does  look  a  little  squally  for  yon, 
friend  Hermon,  it  cannot  be  denied.  This  is  not 
Brayton's  hand-writing.  You  have  enemies  in  the 
village,  and  some  of  them  might  have  been  eaves- 
dropping last  night. 

"  But  the  door  was  locked,  and  the  key  in  my  owi: 
pocket.  How  could  any  one  have  got  into  the 
chamber  ?  " 

With  all  his  attempt  to  appear  careless  and  only  so- 
licitous for  Hermon's  case,  Skillott  was  troubled. 
That  paper  in  the  dead  man's  hand  —  the  contents  — 
and  the  fact  stated  by  Hermon  that  the  glass  was  mis- 
sing, had  an  ugly  look.  It  was  for  his  interest  to  as- 
sist Hermon  so  far  as  was  safe.  If  worst  came  to 
worst,  he  had  already  determined  to  turn  the  whole 
tide  of  circumstances  against  Hermon,  and  sacrifice 
him  to  save  himself.  It  was  clear  to  him  that  an  un- 
seen enemy  was  around,  and  he  felt  that  undefinable 
sense  of  dread  which  a  person  experiences  when  ex- 


3Y6  MINNIE   HEKMON. 

pecting  a  blow  in  the  dark.  At  last  a  thought 
his  attention,  and  he  entered  his  library  and  com- 
menced hunting  among  some  loose  papers.  He  came 
to  one,  and  for  some  moments  compared  the  writing 
upon  it,  with  that  on  the  note  handed  him  by  Her- 
mon.  He  had  evidently  found  a  clue.  The  paper 
hunted  up  by  Skillott  was  a  notice  of  a  temper- 
ance meeting,  written  by  the  Hermit.  There  was 
something  in  this  knowledge  besides  the  mystery  of 
the  affair,  to  give  Skillott  serious  thoughts.  The  Her- 
mit was  dreaded  by  all  the  Judge's  class.  If  that 
everywhere-present,  and  eagle-eyed  individual  had 
obtained  any  knowledge  of  the  real  state  of  things, 
he  was  an  enemy  to  be  dreaded.  Skillott's  counte- 
nance was  pale,  as  he  continued  to  compare  papers  ; 
but  he  shut  his  teeth  harshly  together,  and  a  fiend- 
ish light  gleamed  in  his  dark  eye.  The  stakes  were 
increasing,  and  the  play  was  becoming  extremely  haz- 
ardous. 

There  was  another  early  call  in  Oakvale.  Doctor 
Howard  was  awakened  from  a  deep  slumber  by  a  sin- 
gle rap  upon  his  door.  It  was  familiar,  for  no  other 
was  ever  given  in  the  same  manner,  and  he  was  not 
surprised  when  he  found  the  Hermit  standing  upon 
the  piazza,  closely  muffled  in  his  long  robe. 

"  Who  is  sick  now,  my  friend,"  inquired  the  Doc- 
tor, yawning  and  rubbing  his  eyes. 

"  Nobody  sick  —  dead  !  " 

"  Indeed !  who's  dead,  may  I  ask  \  " 

"Gerald  Brayton." 


TWO   MORNING    CALLS.  377 

"  The  old  man  dead  ?  I  feared  his  habits  would 
destroy  him." 

"  Habits  did  not  kill  him.     Poisoned  !  " 

"  What !  Brayton  poisoned !  How  do  you  know 
that?" 

"See  it  done — know  it!  " 

"Then  he  has  committed  suicide ! " 

"  No.     Others  committed  murder !  " 

"Impossible!  Who  would  wish  to  poison  Gerald 
Brayton  ?  He  was  his  own  worst  enemy." 

"  Dont  know  who  wished  to  ;  know  they  did.  That's 
enough." 

"And  you  saw  this !  " 

"  I  did.  But  did  not  suppose  there  was  poison  in 
the  cup  until  afterwards,  or  I  could  have  saved  him. 
Thought  he  had  the  tremens" 

"  But  this  is  a  serious  matter.  What  evidence  have 
you  that  he  was  poisoned,  more  than  your  eyes  be- 
held ? " 

The  Hermit  carefully  drew  a  glass  from  his  inner 
side-pocket,  tightly  bound  over  the  top  with  buck- 
skin and  strings.  Untying  the  latter,  he  handed  the 
glass  to  the  Doctor. 

"  There  !  look  at  that.  He  drank  out  of  that.  A 
vial  was  emptied  into,  it  first." 

Howard's  interest  was  now  aroused,  and  with  tho 
Hermit  he  entered  his  oflice. 

"Poison  !  sure  enough,"  he  exclaimed,  after  a  care- 
ful examination,  "  and  of  the  most  deadly  kind." 

"  S'posed  so,"  was  the  brief  response  of  the  Hermit. 


378  MINNIE   HERilON. 

"  But,  in  God's  na.ne,  my  friend,  who  gave  Bray 
ton  from  this  cup  to  drink,  and  why  ? " 

"  Know  who ;  cant  tell  why.     Guess,  though." 

"  This  is  horrible.  What  must  be  done  ?  Who 
were  the  parties,  and  where  was  it  done?" 

"'Twas  more  horrible  to  see.  They  must  Jiang. 
Parties  well  known.  Done  at  the  Home.  Ques- 
tions all  answered." 

"  What  do  you  say  !  —  at  Herman's  ?  " 

"  Just  said  so." 

"  But  we  must  know  who  there  are  in  our  midst 
who  would  do  such  things." 

"  Know  soon  enough.     Give  me  the  glass." 

Howard  mechanically  obeyed,  being  familiar  with 
the  ways  of  the  eccentric  individual  before  him.  If 
he  was  scenting  the  footsteps  of  wrong,  the  Doctor 
knew  that  he  would  be  as  wary  and  untiring  as  a 
blood-hound.  As  the  Hermit  took  the  glass  and 
again  carefully  tied  the  buckskin  over  the  top,  he 
turned  to  go. 

"  When  shall  I  see  you  again  ? "  anxiously  inquired 
Howard. 

"  To-night.  Look  at  the  glasses  in  Herman's  bar  !  " 
The  Hermit  turned  on  his  heel,  and  strode  down  the 
walk  with  more  energy  even  than  was  customarv 
for  him.  Not  until  he  was  gone,  did  his  last  words 
come  with  their  full  meaning  to  the  understanding  of 
the  Doctor. 

Circumstances  proved  most  unexpectedly  favorable 
to  the  plans  of  parties  more  directly  interested  in  the 


TWO   MORNING   CALLS.  379 

Brayton  affair.  Skillott  had  managed  the  matter  cun- 
ningly, and  by  ten  o'clock,  through  the  daily  paper 
and  on  busy  tongues,  it  was  circulated  that  Braytot 
had  died  the  night  before  at  the  Home,  after  a  pro- 
tracted debauch,  of  delirium-tremens.  Such  a  result 
was  not  looked  upon  with  surprise. 

Walter  Brayton  was  absent  from  Oakvale,  and  as 
a  friend  of  him  and  his  father,  Skillott  volunteered  to 
take  charge  of  the  investigation,  and  of  the  burial  of 
the  corpse.  The  coroner's  inquest  was  brief.  A 
number  of  persons  testified  to  the  deep  drunkenness 
of  Brayton  on  the  evening  before  his  death,  while 
Skillott  and  Hermon  testified  directly  to  the  manner 
of  his  death.  The  former  stated  that  he  had  been 
called  in  to  assist  during  the  parox}Tsms.  The  jury 
pronounced  a  verdict  of  "Death  by  visitation  of  Prov- 
idence !  " 

Howard  had  been  called  away  to  attend  a  sick  pa- 
tient, soon  after  his  interview  with  the  Hermit.  The 
patient  died  after  a  severe  and  protracted  struggle, 
detaining  the  doctor  until  a  late  hour  in  the  afternoon. 
As  soon  as  possible  he  returned  home,  feeling  confi- 
dent, however,  that  the  Hermit  would  watch  the  pro- 
ceedings. 

Turning  his  horse  loose  into  the  yard,  he  entered 
the  house  to  snatch  a  mouthful,  and  found  the  follow- 
ing characteristic  note : 

"  Doctor,  the  murderers  have  planned  to  put  their 
poison  under  ground.  Brayton  will  be  buried  before 


380  MINNIE   IIEKMON. 

night,  and  dug  up  afterwards^  and  hidden.  Let  him 
be  buried.  We  will  attend  the  night  party.  Speak 
not  a  word.  HEKMTT." 

In  deep  thought,  Howard  passed  over  to  the  Home, 
where  a  large  number  were  still  assembled,  many  of 
them  disgustingly  drunk.  Sure  enough,  the  prepa- 
rations for  the  burial  of  the  corpse  were  in  an  ad- 
vanced state.  It  was  thought  that  the  body  had  bet- 
ter not  be  kept  long  unburied ! 

Howard  asked  to  see  the  corpse.  "With  a  look  at 
Skillott,  after  some  hesitation,  Hermon  led  him  to  the 
chamber.  Howard  was  immediately  satisfied  that 
Brayton  did  not  die  of  the  drunkard's  madness.  His 
experienced  eye  detected  the  unmistakable  footprints 
of  a  more  fatal  agency,  plainly  written  in  the  hue  of 
the  flesh.  He  noticed  the  marks  of  the  scuffle  upon 
the  floor,  and  turned  away.  Hermon  had  been  watch 
ing  his  eye,  and  grew  agitated  as  it  rested  upon  him. 
But  for  the  testimony  already  revealed  to  him  by 
the  Hermit,  Howard  would  have  pronounced  the 
death  one  of  strangulation. 

While  they  were  standing  in  the  room,  the  sexton 
came  for  the  corpse.  Hermon  was  repulsively  offi- 
cious, as  rumsellers  usually  are  when  at  the  funeral 
of  any  of  their  victims.  As  they  all  emerged  into 
the  street,  Howard  balanced  over  the  counter  and 
snatched  one  of  the  glasses  from  the  sink  and  thrust 
it  into  his  side-pocket.  As  he,  too,  went  out,  the 
crowd  were  following  the  corpse  to  the  burial  ground 


TWO   MORNING   CALLS.  381 

Upon  an  awning-post  of  one  of  the  main  streets, 
the  following  notice  attracted  his  attention : 

"  BRAYTON  WAS  MURDERED!  —  There  was  poison  in 
the  cup.  Those  who  gave  it  to  him  are  superintend- 
ing his  funeral.  They  expect  that  the  grave  will 
cover  their  guilt. 

"A  GUEST  NOT  INVITED." 

Howard  was  startled  at  the  boldness  of  this  act. 
Ere  others  became  aware  of  the  charge,  the  funeral 
was  over,  and  night  had  set  in.  But  the  news  of  the 
placards  went  like  lightning,  and  became  the  subject 
of  intense  talk.  Most  of  the  people  believed  that 
Skillott,  from  his  standing,  and  the  straightforward 
testimony  at  the  inquest,  was  utterly  incapable  of  such 
a  crime.  And  besides,  there  could  be  no  motive  for  its 
commission.  The  Judge  was  careful  to  give  currency 
to  the  belief  that  the  placard  had  been  posted  by  some 
personal  enemy. 

Late  in  the  evening  the  Hermit  again  called  at 
Howard's  office.  In  his  usual  brief-  style  he  stated 
what  he  had  learned  during  the  day.  Skillott  had 
become  convinced  that  some  one  had  seen,  or  become 
acquainted  with  the  facts  of  Brayton's  death.  It  was 
evident  to  Skillott  that  the  Hermit  was  in  the  matter  ; 
and  knowing  the  untiring  disposition  of  that  individ- 
ual, he  felt  that  prompt  and  thorough  measures  must 
be  taken.  It  had  been  arranged  that  the  body  of 
Brayton  should  be  taken  up  and  sunk  in  the  river, 


382  MINNIE   HERMON. 

and  tlie  story  started  that  it  had  been  stolen  by  the 
doctors.  The  Hermit  would  not  reveal  how  he  had 
acquired  the  information,  but  Howard  relied  upon  it. 

"  We  must  attend  the  party  to-night,"  briefly  and 
sternly  he  continued, "'  and  you  will  see  who  put  poi- 
son in  the  cup.  I  will  call  at  the  right  time.  Be 
ready." 

The  night  was  dark  and  stormy.  The  sky  was  dense- 
ly overcast  with  heavy  clouds.  A  cold,  drizzling  rain 
had  commenced  falling  about  nine  o'clock,  melting 
away  the  thin  snow  which  had  fallen  the  night  previ- 
ous, making  the  darkness  deep  and  impenetrable. 

The  pulse-beat  of  the  busy  throng  had  ceased  to 
throb  in  the  streets  of  Oakvale ;  but  the  rain  swept 
fiercely  down  the  streets  and  around  the  corners. 
The  water  running  from  the  eave-gutters,  and  the 
creaking  of  the  signs  as  they  swayed  in  the  wind, 
were  the  only  sounds  which  mingled  with  the  fitful 
violence  of  the  storm. 

While  the  town-clock  was  slowly  chiming  the  hour 
of  midnight,  two  persons,  deeply  muffled,  carrying  a 
shovel  and  a  dark  lantern  each,  turned  off  from  the 
main  street,  and  through  a  narrow  lane  pursued  their 
way  in  silence  out  of  the  village.  As  they  cleared 
the  settled  portions,  they  struck  into  the  fields,  and  as 
fast  as  possible  pushed  on  against  the  driving  storm. 
Coming  to  the  bank  of  the  river,  they  turned  to  the 
right  and  followed  it  up  to  the  burial  ground  and  en- 
tered. Slowly  they  hunted  among  the  graves,  stop- 
ping H-hen  they  came  to  that  of  Brayton.  After  lis- 


TWO   MORNING   CALLS.  383 

tening  a  moment,  the  lamps  were  hidden  and  both 
commenced  with  their  shovels  to  throw  out  the  fresh 
earth.  They  were  both  strong  men,  and  the  coffin 
was  soon  reached.  The  lid  had  been  but  slightly  fas- 
tened, and  readily  gave  way  to  an  energetic  pull  at 
the  edges.  A  cold  shudder  crept  from  the  corpse 
along  the  nerves  of  the  living  as  One  of  the  diggers 
felt  for  the  face.  There  was  a  moment's  hesitation, 
and  the  hook  which  had  been  provided  was  thrust 
quickly  under  the  chin.  Both  took  hold  of  the  rope, 
and  with  united  strength  pulled  the  body  out  upon 
the  grass.  Again  they  listened,  but  there  was  no 
sound  save  the  steadily  beating  storm.  A  dark  blank- 
et had  been  provided,  in  which  the  body  was  closely 
rolled,  and  a  rope  fastened  around  the  feet.  The  lat- 
ter, after  much  difficulty,  were  drawn  closely  to  the 
head,  and  the  rope  passed  under  the  arms.  With  a 
rail  which  had  been  brought  from  the  fence,  the  body 
was  raised  upon  their  shoulders  and  carried  towards 
the  river,  upon  the  bank  of  which  they  left  it,  and 
returned  to  fill  the  grave  and  get  their  lamps  and  tools. 
Others  than  the  grave-robbers  had  been  witnesses 
of  the  act.  Closely  hidden  near  by,  were  Howard 
and  the  Hermit.  For  two  hours  they  had  remained 
in  the  storm,  their  garments  wet  through  and  through. 
They  had  obtained  a  full  view  of  the  countenances 
of  the  diggers,  as  one  of  the  lamps  had  been  held 
a  moment  above  the  grave.  As  the  body  was  borne 
off,  the  two  followed  closely,  and  barely  escaped  a 

contest  with  the  diggers  as  they  returned  to  the  grave. 
16 


384  MTNTHE 


is  onr  .  time,"  whispered  the  Hermit,  as  he 
laid  his  hand  on  Howard's  arm.     "  Lift." 

They  then  put  their  own  shoulders  under  the  rail, 
and  as  swiftly  as  possible  carried  the  body  to  the 
fence.  Leaving  Howard  in  charge  of  it,  the  Hermit 
returned  to  the  spot  where  it  was  first  left,  to  await 
the  return  of  the  Diggers. 

The  grave  was  soon  filled,  and  the  diggers  returned 
to  the  bank  where  they  had  left  the  corpse,  design 
ing  to  fasten  a  heavy  stone  to  it  and  sink  it  in  the 
river.  They  looked  some  time  for  the  body  at  the 
point  where  they  supposed  they  had  left  it. 

"  Skillott,  Skillott,"  said  one  of  the  parties  in  a  lo'w 
voice,  as  he  stumbled  against  the  Hermit,  "  I  have 
found  it  !  " 

"  How  in  the  d  -  1  did  /t  come  out  there  ?  1 
thought  we  left  it  just  by  this  little  knoll." 

"  "We  didn't  steer  right  in  the  dark.  But  where  in 
the  world  is  the  rail  ?  " 

"  Did  you  leave  it  in  the  rope  ?  " 

"  Yes;  but  it  aint  there  now." 

"  It  must  be  there  if  you  left  it  there,"  and  the  one 
addressed  as  Skillott  came  up. 

"Good  God!  ifswwm!"  sharply  uttered  the  first 
speaker,  jumping  to  his  feet  as  though  he  had  clutched 
a  viper. 

"  You  be  -  ,  Hermon  1  "What  are  you  fright- 
ened at?" 

"  See,  yourself  1  "  answered  the  trembling  landlord, 
for  it  was  him. 


TWO   MOKNLNG   CALLS.  385 

Skillott  unhesitatingly  stooped  and  touched  the 
body.  He  started  slightly  as  his  hand  encountered 
the  long  hair,  but  it  was  wet  and  cold.  He  had  for- 
gotten that  the  body  had  been  wrapped  in  a  blanket. 
Passing  his  hand  up  over  the  face,  he  found  a  thick, 
bushy  beard  ;  but  the  face  was  cold  and  wet  as  the 
hair.  Somewhat  excited  and  bewildered,  he  laid  his 
hand  upon  the  bosom  ;  still  more  amazed  as  he  found 
buttons  there.  The  next  instant  his  fingers  were  in 
the  vice-like  grasp  of  a  living  hand ! 

"  H — 1  and  furies !  "  he  almost  howled  as  he 
snatched  his  own  away.  "  This  is  no  dead  man,  01 
else  that  hand  was  yours,  Hermon.  No  fooling  with 
me !  " 

"  I  havn't  touched  you,"  answered  the  trembling 
landlord,  as  he  took  a  step  or  two  back. 

Skillott  drew  his  lamp  from  his  bosom,  and  placing 
it  before  his  own  features,  let  the  light  shine  down 
before  him.  The  spectacle  presented  was  one  to 
startle  bolder  men  than  Skillott.  On  the  ground, 
stretched  at  full  length,  his  eye  glittering  in  the  dull 
lamplight,  and  his  long  hair  and  beard  wet  with  the 
storm,  was  the  Hermit.  He  gave  that  peculiar 
chuckle  as  h.e  was  revealed  to  the  diggers. 

"  Priest  or  devil,  take  that !  Your  foul  carrion  shall 
feed  the  fishes  too  !  " 

Lightly  the  Hermit  sprang  from  his  position,  the 
knife  which  Skillott  had  aimed  at  his  breast  sticking 
in  the  turf  where  he  had  lain.  A  sneering  ha!  ha! 
answered  the  fierce  curses  of  the  baffled  digger.  The 


386  MINNIE   HERMON. 

latter  hurled  the  knife  fiercely  in  the  direction  of  the 
voice  ;  but  it  only  clinked  against  a  tomb-stone  which 
it  struck  beyond,  and  again  provoked  that  sneering 
laugh.  There  was  then  a  flash  and  a  report,  and  a 
ball  went  whistling  past  his  head. 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha !  poison  the  living  and  rob  the  dead ! 
Judge  Sk;llott  and  John  Hermon !  the  murderers  are 
not  all  hung  yet,"  was  echoed  back  from  a  different 
direction  than  where  the  shot  was  fired. 

All  parties  now  stood  silent  in  the  impenetrable 
darkness.  With  half-smothered  curses  and  still  more 
devilish  plans  for  meeting  the  new  danger  and  .at 
the  same  time  securing  revenge,  Skillott  took  Hermon 
by  the  arm,  and  the  two  moved  carefully  towards  the 
road.  As  they  were  picking  their  way  along  by  the 
side  of  the  fence  near  the  corner  of  the  grounds,  they 
were  again  startled  by  the  unwelcome  guest. 

"  Ho  1  ho  !  gentlemen  diggers  !  Why  not  take 
along  the  body  ?  A  chemical  analysis  might  show 
\t\\o  put  poison  in  the  cup  !  ha,  ha  !  " 

The  sounds  were  close  to  the  ear,  and  Skillott  struck 
fiercely  towards  them,  but  the  blow  fell  upon  the 
fence.  The  act  was  again  answered  by  that  sneering 
laugh. 

The  idea  of  an  analysis  of  the  stomach  of  Brayton 
fixed  more  deeply  the  dark  purpose  of  Skillott.  He 
was  not  a  man  to  hesitate  when  such  dangers  thick- 
ened around  him.  Against  the  remonstrance  of 
Hermon,  he  called  at  Doctor  Howard's  as  he  entered 
the  village,  and  disguising  his  voice,  inquired  for  the 


TWO   MORNING   CALLS.  387 

Doctor.  Mrs.  Howard  answered  that  he  had  been 
called  away  in  the  evening,  and  had  not  returned. 
Skillott  turned  away,  passed  stealthily  around  the 
house  to  the  barn,  and  tossed  the  shovel  and  the  cord 
and  hook,  together  with  the  lanterns,  into  the  loft 
over  the  shed.  An  hour  later,  and  he  was  in  his 
office ;  but  his  sleepless  eye  gleamed  with  unwonted 
brilliancy,  and  his  inind  was  busy  perfecting  iiis  dark 
schemes. 


CHAPTER   XXIX. 

THE  WICKED   PLOT THE  WICKED   TRIOALPH, 

EARLY  on  the  morning  succeeding  the  scenes  poj- 
traycd  in  the  last  chapter,  the  following  placard  ap- 
peared in  the  streets : 

"  The  grave  robbers  abont  1  Gerald  Brayton's 
body  stolen  last  night.  Order  loving  citizens  are  re- 
quested to  meet  at  the  Town  Hall  at  nine  o'clock,  to 
take  measures  to  protect  our  graves  from  desecration. 

"By  ORDER." 

The  excitement  was  intense.  For  two  years  past 
a  number  of  occurrences  of  the  same  kind  had  aroused 
the  community  to  the  deepest  exasperation. 

An  hour  before  the  time  appointed  in  the  call,  the 
Hall  was  crowded.  The  excited  and  indignant  pop- 
ulace gave  ominous  indications  that  summary  meas- 
ures would  be  taken,  should  the  person  or  persons 
guilty  of  the  outrage  be  ferreted  out.  A  low  rush 
of  angry  muttering  swept  over  that  sea  of  heads. 
At  a  late  hour,  Judge  Skillott,  his  countenance  stern 
and  thoughtful,  entered  the  room,  and  in  an  unas- 
suming manner  wedged  through  the  crowd  and  took 


THE   WICKED   PLOT.  389 

his  seat.  The  meeting  was  called  to  order  and  the 
Judge  unanimously  appointed  chairman  of  the  meet- 
ing. His  remarks  on  taking  the  chair  were  calm,  and 
deprecatory  of  violent  measures.  He  did  not  wonder 
at  the  high  state  of  feeling  in  the  community.  They 
had  all  been  deeply  injured  in  their  feelings.  Those 
we  loved  were  stolen  from  the  graves  where  their 
friends  had  laid  them.  A  spot  sacred  in  the  affec- 
tions of  all  who  had  lost  kindred,  had  been  repeatedly 
desecrated  by  the  sacrilegious  violence  of  grave  rob- 
bers. It  was  to  be  regretted  that  such  things  should 
occur  in  the  community.  Justice  to  themselves,  their 
reputation  abroad,  and  to  the  graves  of  their  dead, 
demanded  that  measures  should  be  taken  to  put  a  stop 
to  similar  outrages. 

As  Skillott  took  his  seat,  Dr.  Howard  entered  and 
stood  in  the  passage  in  front.  Skillott  bent  his  stern 
gaze  full  upon  that  individual,  and  with  so  direct  and 
meaning  an  expression,  that  the  attention  of  the  whole 
audience  was  drawn  to  the  doctor.  The  latter  was 
taken  by  surprise,  and  reddened  at  the  insolent  bold- 
ness of  the  man  whom  he  had  last  seen  under  such 
peculiar  circumstances.  The  Judge  turned  away,  as 
much  as  to  say,  "  Look  to  that  man."  And  so  thought 
the  fickle  crowd.  Some  of  the  sickly  pallor  passed 
away  from  the  chairman's  face,  as  he  saw  his  plan  for 
directing  public  attention  upon  the  wrong  scent  work- 
ing so  favorably. 

After  a  number  of  citizens  had  made  remarks  to 
the  meeting,  the  chairman  was  called  upon  to  give 


390  MINNIE   HERMON. 

some  advice  in  the  matter.  He  complied  with  the 
request  with  well-assumed  reluctance.  He  stated 
what  facts  had  come  to  his  knowledge  through  oth- 
ers. He  thought  a  committee  should  be  appointed  to 
make  investigations,  and  report  in  the  evening  at  that 
place.  More  facts  than  had  yet  come  to  light  might 
probably  be  elicited.  With  prompt  and  energetic 
measures  the  body  might  be  found.  He  hoped  so, 
for  Gerald  Bray  ton  was  a  friend  whom  he  bad  cher- 
ished with  great  regard.  The  plan  was  adopted,  and 
Skillott,  after  much  urging,  placed  at  the  head  of  the 
committee  of  investigation. 

>  Amazed  at  what  he  had  seen,  Doctor  Howard  had 
stood  during  the  proceedings,  lost  in  thought.  As  the 
meeting  dispersed,  he  looked  around  for  some  one 
whom  he  had  expected  to  see  present,  but  was  disap- 
pointed. As  he  turned  he  encountered  the  keen, 
half-sneering  gaze  of  Skillott.  There  was  a  glitter  of 
some  unknown  triumph  in  that  restless  eye. 

"  Now,"  said  Skillott,  as  the  committee  prepared  to 
proceed  in  their  investigation,  "  you  will  remember 
that  the  soil  in  the  burial  ground  is  of  a  peculiar  red, 
sticky  kind.  If  we  bear  this  in  mind  it  may  lead  to 
some  developments  as  to  the  robbers.  They  must 
have  had  tools,  and  have  worn  boots  or  shoes." 

Having  a  patient  to  call  upon,  Howard  left  the  vil- 
lage as  the  committee  commenced  their  search. 

The  soil  in  the  burial  ground  was  soft  and  very  ad- 
hesive from  the  effects  of  the  thaw.  The  tracks  of 
manr  individuals  were  plainly  marked,  especially 


THE   WICKED   PLOT.  391 

around  the  grave  where  Brayton  had  been  buried. 
From  there  they  were  traced  to  the  bank  of  the  river, 
then  down  to  the  fence,  and  thence  across  the  field 
to  the  edge  of  the  village.  There  were  evidently 
the  tracks  of  two  persons  from  the  fence  to  the  road, 
following  each  other. 

"  Why,  if  it  were  possible,"  suggested  one  of  tho 
citizens,  "  I  should  say  that  Doctor  Howard  had  been 
here,  or  some  boy.  No  man  has  so  small  a  foot." 
Skillott  said  nothing. 

The  knife  (a  spring  dirk)  was  found  by  a  grave 
stone,  and  handed  to  the  Judge.  No  other  evidences 
were  found  to  lead  to  a  knowledge  of  the  robbers. 
The  grave  was  opened  and  the  coffin  found  empty. 

"Now,  friends,"  said  the  judge,  "it  is  quite  certain 
that  the  body  was  taken  across  the  field  to  the  road 
and  to  the  village.  I  should  be  sorry  to  find  it  in  the 
possession  of  any  of  our  own  citizens.  Yet  the  search 
must  be  thoroughly  made." 

The  party  again  returned  towards  the  village,  close- 
ly scrutinizing  every  mark  which  might  give  them  a 
clue  to  the  course  of  the  robbers.  Arriving  at  Doc- 
tor Howard's  residence,  a  halt  was  made. 

"  My  friends,"  again  remarked  Skillott,  "  I  regret 
that  this  unpleasant  duty  has  fallen  upon  us.  The 
innocent  should  not  suffer  unjust  imputations.  Here 
is  the  residence  of  Doctor  Howard.  He  is  a  personal 
friend  of  mine,  and  I  am  anxious  to  have  him  cleared 
from  all  suspicion  of  having  a  hand  in  this  sad  affair. 
At  the  meeting  this  morning,  I  thought  I  saw  a  dis- 


392  MINNIE  HEEMON. 

position  to  direct  public  attention  to  him  as  one  con- 
cerned in  this  matter.  As  we  are  bound  to  do  our 
whole  duty,  we  will  look  over  his  premises,  he  being 
a  doctor,  and  then  he  will  not  suffer  from  an  impres- 
sion so  unjust." 

On  explanation,  Mrs.  Howard  gave  a  ready  con- 
sent to  the  search,  she  having  full  confidence  that  her 
husband  knew  nothing  of  the  matter. 

"  It  is  n't  much  likely,"  carelessly  remarked  Skil- 
lott,  as  he  put  a  short  ladder  up  against  the  shed  and 
climbed  to  the  open  door.  His  attention  was  attract- 
ed, and  he  looked  down  upon  the  rest  of  the  crowd 
with  apparent  surprise  and  regret  at  what  he  had  dis- 
covered. Hesitating  a  moment,  he  reached  over  up- 
on the  hay,  and  pulled  down  two  shovels  and  a  rope 
with  an  iron  hook  attached.  There  was  blood  upon 
the  hook,  and  that  peculiar  red  soil  upon  the  shovels ! 
There  was  a  murmur  of  surprise  by  the  bystanders, 
and  Skillott  slowly  descended  to  the  ground  and  re- 
tired to  one  side,  thoughtful  and  sad. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  he  at  last,  "  I  will  not  deny  that 
these  things  annoy  me —  disappoint  me.  And  it  has 
just  occurred  to  me  that  my  position,  in  the  event 
of  a  detection  and  trial,  should  induce  me  to  have  no 
more  to  do  with  this  affair  at  the  present  stage  of  it. 
The  rest  of  you  will  do  your  duty." 

Many  appreciated  the  Judge's  delicacy  in  not  wish- 
ing to  learn  of  facts  which  should  go  against  his  friend. 
That  innocent  dignitary  gave  Jud  Lane  a  meaning 
wink,  and  himself  refrained  from  farther  search. 


THE    WICKED   PLOT.  393 

Under  the  hungry  scent  of  Jud  Lane,  the  hunt  waa 
continued.  In  the  wood-shed  a  pair  of  boots  were 
found,  thickly  coated  with  the  red  soil,  and  their  size 
corresponding  with  the  tracks  across  the  fields.  They 
were  brought  out  and  placed  with  the  shovels.  The 
office  was  open,  but  nothing  was  found  there  of  the 
body.  The  wagon-house  was  locked.  As  the  doctor 
had  carried  the  key  with  him,  it  was  determined  to 
wrench  off  the  staple;  a  thorough  search,  after  what 
had  been  discovered,  would  alone  satisfy  the  people. 

In  one  of  the  farther  stables,  partially  covered  with 
straw,  the  body  of  Gerald  Brayton  was  found, 
wrapped  in  a  coarse  blanket,  and  a  rope  fastened  to 
the  feet  and  under  the  arms,  and  the  mark  of  the 
hook  under  the  chin  ! 

The  crowd  stood  aghast !  They  had  not  yet  be- 
lieved that  Doctor  Howard  was  a  body  snatcher. 
His  friends  were  sad  and  sileni,  while  his  many  ene- 
mies, bitter  against  him  as  a  radical  temperance  refor- 
mer, assumed  sudden  wisdom,  and  gravely  expressed 
how  long  they  had  believed  that  all  was  not  right. 

As  the  body  was  taken  into  the  yard,  Howard 
drove  in.  Stepping  up  to  the  crowd  which  stood  be- 
fore the  open  door  of  the  wagon-house,  he  somewhat 
excitedly  inquired  what  it  all  meant.  Not  one  an- 
swered, leaving  him  to  see  for  himself.  His  eye 
rested  upon  the  body,  now  divested  of  all  but  the 
shroud,  as  ghastly  and  bare  it  lay  out  upon  the 
ground.  The  stomach  had  ~been  taken  out  of  the 
corpse! 


394:  MINNIE  HERMON. 

This  is  sad,  Doctor, —  a  sad  business,  which  none 
of  all  your  numerous  friends  will  regret  more  than 
myself." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Judge  Skillott?"  fiercely  de- 
manded Howard,  looking  searchingly  in  the  Judge's 
face. 

"  I  mean  what  I  say,  Doctor.  Appearances  are 
against  you  in  this  matter.  The  present  excited  state 
of  public  feeling  will  damage  your  case,  I  fear." 

"  Black-hearted,  unblushing  villain !  "  ground  the 
Doctor  between  his  teeth,  as  he  began  to  comprehend 
the  strength  of  the  meshes  which  his  enemy  had  wo- 
ven around  him,  "  no  one  knows  more  of  this  matter 
than  yourself  and  your  associate  in  wickedness." 

"  You  are  excited,  Doctor,  and  I  will  not  bandy 
words  with  you,"  calmly  replied  the  Judge.  "  It  does 
not  become  my  position.  It  remains  to  be  seen  who 
knows  the  most  of  this  matter.  Officer  Gaston,  do 
your  duty."  The  huge  blacksmith,  with  honest  em- 
barrassment, stepped  forth  to  arrest  Howard,  looking 
more  like  a  culprit  than  did  the  Doctor. 

"  Friends,"  said  the  latter  in  a  calm  tone,  "  I  see 
through  this  worse  than  fiendish  scheme.  The  right 
will  yet  triumph."  But  Howard's  heart  sank  within 
him,  as  he  saw  the  skeptical  countenances  around 
him.  "With  pale  and  compressed  lip,  he  turned,  in 
company  with  Gaston,  and  ahead  of  the  crowd,  passed 
into  the  village,  after  a  brief  and  touching  parting 
with  his  wife.  He  assured  her  of  his  innocence,  and 
told  her  to  be  of  good  cheer.  The  noblo  man  little 


THE   WICKED   PLOT.  395 

knew  how  deeply  laid  were  the  plans  of  his  relentless 
enemy.  Had  he  been  a  cannibal  just  imported,  his 
own  immediate  acquaintances  could  not  have  stared 
at  him  with  a  more  morbid  curiosity.  Those  whom 
he  had  counted  strong  friends,  turned  coldly  away. 
Those  to  whose  families  he  had  often  dispensed  with  a 
liberal  hand,  turned  to  rend  him.  His  name  was 
covered  with  infamy,  and  summary  punishment  in- 
voked upon  his  crime.  Howard's  noble  spirit  was 
grieved  at  such  treatment,  for  he  knew  his  innocence 
of  the  revolting  crime  laid  to  his  charge,  and  he  felt 
th?,t  others  ought  to  know  as  much. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

ANOTHER   VICTIM   IN   THE   NET THE   WICKED   BTTLL 

TRIUMPH. 

UNDER  pretence  of  satisfying  public  opinion,  How- 
ard's bail  was  fixed  at  an  unreasonable  sum  by  Judge 
Skillott.  The  latter  affirmed  that  he  had  no  doubt 
of  the  Doctor's  honor ;  but  the  charge  was  a  serious 
one,  and  the  community  had  a  right  to  thorough 
measures.  It  was  now  that  Howard  felt  more  keenly 
the  base  ingratitude  of  those  who  had  fawned  around 
him.  Those  to  whom  he  confidently  looked  for  aid, 
by  one  consent  began  to  make  excuses  and  left  him. 
At  this  juncture  a  wealthy  citizen,  with  whom  he  had 
often  differed  with  much  warmth,  promptly  came 
forward  on  learning  the  facts,  and  offered  himself  as 
bail.  There  could  be  no  dispute  about  his  ability, 
and,  after  some  frivolous  objections,  he  was  accepted. 
Howard  was  satisfied  that  his  failure  to  procure  bail 
would  have  been  cnore  agreeable.  In  silence  he 
pressed  the  hand  of  his  unexpected  friend,  and  went 
sadly  homeward,  wondering  at  the  hollow  nature  of 
the  friendships  which  he  had  supposed  so  true.  The 
prosperous  and  the  powerful  always  have  friends. 
They  vanish  under  the  test  of  adverse  circumstances. 


ANOTHER   VICTIM   IN   THE   NET.  397 

A  "  body-snatcher  !  "  Such  was  the  term  Doctor 
Howard  heard  whispered  as  he  went  about.  Curious 
faces  were  seen  peering  from  the  windows  as  he  passed, 
and  children  actually  shunned  him  on  the  walk.  He 
felt  like  one  branded  with  infamy.  His  business  was 
ruined  at  a  blow,  and  he  fled  to  his  own  fireside  for 
that  sympathy  and  kindness  so  grateful  to  one  of  his 
sensitive  nature.  He  there  found  a  friend  who  clung 
the  closer  as  others  deserted. 

"Walter  Brayton  did  not  return  to  Oakvale  until 
several  days  after  the  exciting  events  just  narrated. 
Skillott  managed  to  see  him  first,  and,  as  a  friend, 
related  all  the  circumstances  of  the  case,  adroitly  col- 
oring the  statement  so  as  to  secure  his  own  strong  hold 
upon  Walter's  mind,  and  at  the  same  time  leave  a 
deep  impression  there  against  Doctor  Howard.  The 
latter  frankly  demanded  an  opportunity  of  speaking 
to  Walter,  but  under  advice,  the  proposition  was  al- 
most insultingly  refused.  The  circumstances  were  so 
strong  against  the  Doctor,  that  Brayton  allowed  no 
doubt  of  his  guilt  to  cross  his  mind. 

Alas  !  what  a  change  was  there  in  Walter  Brayton. 
He  had  fallen  like  a  meteor  from  his  former  high  po- 
sition. The  false  light  of  political  ambition  had  lured 
him  into  the  damning  corruptions  of  party  manage- 
ment. Fast  wedded  to  the  new  idol,  he  was  easily 
led  to  believe  that  the  only  chance  for  success  was  by 
abandoning  his  ultra  temperance  notions,  and  becom- 
ing more  liberal  in  his  sentiments  and  habits.  Skil- 
'ott  was  his  teacher,  as  well  as  was  the  universal  cus- 


398  MINNIE   HERMON. 

torn  of  party  management.  He  must  make  himself 
popular,  by  visiting  and  treating  at  the  taverns  and 
groceries.  Upon  that  large  class  which  followed  such 
practices,  depended  the  balance  of  power.  Such  a 
course  was  pursued  by  all  politicians  of  both  parties, 
which  justified  it  in  others.  The  liberal  expectant  was 
made  to  understand  that  the  taverns  and  groceries 
controlled  the  caucuses,  and  after  the  nominations, 
thousands  of  votes.  If  they  were  not  put  under  pay, 
their  influence  would  not  be  secured.  Brajrton  felt 
all  this,  and  yielded  too  willingly  to  its  seeming  ne- 
cessity. The  office  he  wanted,  and  he  must  do  as  oth- 
ers did  to  secure  i£.  From  an  occasional  glass  of  beer 
with  a  squad  of  tippling  voters,  he  rapidly  passed  to 
more  potent  liquors.  As  election  approached,  the 
descent  became  more  easy  and  rapid.  He  dreamed 
only  of  drinking,  and  after  election  resumed  his  old 
habits  of  temperance.  The  course  was  fatal !  The 
floodgate  once  up,  the  Niagara  tide  swept  in,  and 
while  the  young  man's  eyes  were  riveted  upon  the 
glare  of  the  coveted  position,  its  silent  wave  bore  him 
more  swiftly  away — he  knew  not  how  swiftly.  From 
many  a  political  mass-meeting  he  was  carried  home 
drunk  !  Who  could  once  have  believed  it  of  Walter 
Brayton ! 

Walter  secured  the  nomination  for  Congress,  after 
a  hard-contested  strife.  Funds  were  scattered  liber- 
ally, and  meetings  held  throughout  the  District.  He 
treated  liberally,  and  drank  himself.  It  would  not 
do  to  flinch,  for  such  was  the  custom. 


ANOTHER  VICTIM   IN   THE   NET.  399 

There  were  undercurrents  in  the  progress  of  the 
canvass,  unexpected  and  inexplicable  to  Bray  ton. 
Reports,  most  cunningly  calculated  to  injure,  were 
circulated  in  every  direction.  They  finally  appeared 
in  handbills  and  in  the  opposition  newspaper.  He 
was  charged  with  abusing  his  father  before  he  died, 
and  of  threatening  to  kill  him  if  he  did  not  make 
over  half  of  the  legacy,  and  of  compounding  with 
those  who  stole  the  old  man's  body.  He  was  report- 
ed as  a  gambler  and  a  drunkard  —  as  accomplishing 
the  ruin  of  Minnie  Herinon,  etc.  etc.  Bray  ton  felt 
these  blows,  but  could  obtain  no  clue  to  their  author- 
ship. They  were  all  cunningly  devised,  and  most 
perseveringly  circulated.  Brayton  was  defeated  by 
twenty-seven' votes  !  The  result  was  a  bolt  from  a  clear 
sky  ;  for  he  had  confidently  looked  for  a  majority  of 
eight  or  nine  hundred,  even  with  all  the  unexpected 
influences  against  him.  At  one  fell  swoop,  his  fabric 
came  crashing  about  his  ears.  He  was  disgraced 
with  his  party  ;  his  money  was  gone,  and  he  in  debt. 
"Walter  was  a  pitiful  wreck.  The  sudden  and  sweep- 
ing character  of  his  fall  utterly  astounded  —  crushed 
him.  He  saw  no  redemption,  and  shunned  the  public 
gaze,  plunging  with  all  the  strength  of  his  impetuous 
nature  into  dissipation  to  drown  his  reflections.  That 
was  a  strange  spectacle  —  the  wreck  of  such  a  man 
in  so  brief  a  space  of  time  —  and  as  sad  as  strange. 
Hal  ton  and  a  few  of  his  former  friends  made  earnest 
efforts  to  arrest  him  in  his  mad  career,  but  he  sul- 
lenly repelled  them  all.  Alone,  the  yet  lingering 


400  MINNIE   HERMON. 

currents  of  his  nobler,  better  manhood  came  throbbing 
back,  and  he  wept,  and  attempted  to  realize  the 
change  which  had  come  upon  him.  He  groped  in 
the  dark.  His  proud  spirit  at  times  rebelled,  and  the 
talons  of  the  eagle  clutched  and  wrenched  at  the 
galling  iron  ;  but  the  demon  enthroned  within  him 
aroused,  and  bade  him  to  the  dramshop.  Dismasted, 
and  no  true  hand  at  the  helm,  a  once  noble  craft  was 
drifting  madly  to  destruction.  He  who  had  raised  a 
false  light  on  the  dark  shore,  had  cut  the  cable,  and 
was  now  rejoicing  in  his  work. 

A  few  weeks  after  his  defeat  he  received  a  letter 
from  the  post-office,  written  upon  the  back  of  an  old 
letter  with  a  pencil,  the  place  and  date  obliterated  : 

"  WALTER  BRAYTON  :  Beware  of  the  adder's  fang. 
Judge  Skillott  and  John  llermon  poisoned  your  fa- 
ther and  forged  the  will,  and  attempted  to  steal  the 
body  to  hide  their  guilt.     Heed  the  truth  and  beware. 
"A  FRIEND  IN  PRISON  AND  CHAINS." 

It  was  early  in  the  morning  when  he  received  the 
mysterious  note,  and  his  head  throbbed  over  its  con- 
tents. Did  the  note  reveal  the  truth  ?  How  came 
his  father  to  will  all  his  property  to  Skillott?  "Was 
Skillott  a  villain?  Such,  and  a  thousand  kindred 
questions  flashed  like  shocks  across  his  brain.  lie 
now  remembered  Minnie  Hermon's  warning,  and 
reasoned  of  the  probabilities  of  Skillott's  proving  a 
knave.  It  was  difficult  to  believe  it — he  hacj,  shown 


ANOTHER   VICTIM   IN   THE  NET.  401 

so  much  interest  in  his  welfare.  The  strange  note 
had  awakened  a  new  train  of  thought,  and  for  the 
day  Walter  determined  not  to  drink  a  drop. 

The  more  he  thought  of  the  matter  the  more  un- 
reasonable -it  appeared  to  him  that  his  father  should 
have  borrowed  so  much  money  of  Skillott,  or  that  he 
should  have  voluntarily,  just  at  such  a  juncture, 
willed  all  his  property  to  that  individual.  With  these 
thoughts  fastening  more  strongly  upon  his  mind,  Wal- 
ter determined  to  call  upon  Skillott  and  charge  him 
directly  with  fraud  in  the  matter.  He  began  to  feel 
astonished  that  he  had  ever  been  made  to  believe  that 
his  father  had  borrowed  five  thousand  dollars  of 
Skillott ;  for  the  Judge  had  never  been  supposed 
to  be  worth  half  that  sum,  and  he  was  not  a  man  to 
lend  money  to  those  who,  like  Brayton  at  the  time 
stated,  had  nothing  to  pay.  How  fatally  had  a  strong 
and  naturally  keen  mind  been  blinded  by  the  power- 
ful influences  of  rum  and  political  ambition. 

Brayton  had  at  once  found  an  object  to  fix  his  at- 
tention, and  arouse  the  energies  of  his  nature.  The 
bondage  of  his  besetting  vice  once  broken,  those  en- 
ergies would  recover  all  their  original  strength.  The 
more  he  thought  over  the  improbabilities  of  Skillott's 
statement  about  the  will,  the  more  he  believed  that 
his  father  came  to  his  death  by  violence. 

Clear  and  burning  as  the  noonday  sun,  Walter  saw 
why,  and  how  deeply  he  had  fallen.  He  shuddered 
as  all  the  humiliating  facts  rushed  in  before  his  clearer 
vision,  and  a  quick  glow  burned  hotly  over  his  cheek. 


4:02  MINNIE.  HERMON. 

He  staggered  with  the  racking  intensity  of  his  thoughts. 
Sharp,  rapid  and  piercing,  they  shot  like  barbed  light- 
nings into  his  heart,  until  he  clasped  his  throbbing 
temples  to  beat  back  the  pain.  Then  and  now ! 
Walter  Brayton  as  he  was  two  years  before,  and  Wal- 
ter Brayton  the  penniless  drunkard  !  Involuntarily 
he  leaned  over  and  looked  down  into  the  vortex  which 
his  heated  imagination  opened  before  him,  whtre  the 
lost  writhed  and  howled  in  their  infernal  orgies.  The 
wail,  the  curse,  and  the  unearthly  ha !  ha !  came  fear- 
fully distinct  upon  his  ear.  Upturned  to  his  gaze  was 
one  who  wore  the  semblance  of  his  own  features,  peer- 
ing sadly  from  the  cloudy  gloom,  thick  drops  of  blood 
standing  upon  the  swollen  flesh,  and  the  limbs  wrap- 
ped in  the  slimy  coils  of  a  huge  reptile,  the  eye  of  a 
findish  glitter,  the  white  fangs  bared,  and  the  red 
tongue  glancing  by  the  cheek.  He  shut  his  eyes  as 
the  vision  swam  before  him,  but  he  heard  a  low  hiss. 
He  started,  but  with  eye  distended  and  glassy  again 
looked  down  into  the  gloom.  He  saw  the  head  of  the 
serpent  sway  backwards  and  forwards,  the  eye  still 
upon  him,  gradually  dissolving  like  mist,  and  again 
assuming  shape.  The  features  that  now  swayed  were 
those  of  Skillott,  though  the  same  eye  and  white  fang, 
and  glancing  tongue,  were  there. 

As  he  looked,  the  face  of  him  in  the  tighter  ing  coils 
assumed  his  father's  features  —  white,  ghastly,  and 
the  foam  and  blood  welling  from  the  mouth.  The 
cold  sweat  gathered  damp  and  clammy  upon  "Walter, 
but  he  could  not  turn  away  from  the  horrid  vision. 


ANOTHER   VICTIM   IN   THE   NET.  403 

Once  he  heard  a  low  rush,  and  a  shadowy  form  with 
wings  swept  slowly  between  him  and  the  spectacle  — 
the  pale  and  beautiful  countenance  turned  towards 
him,  and  the  eye  melting  with  sadness,  as  she  beck- 
oned him  to  come  away.  That  was  his  mother.  An- 
other came,  still  more  sad  —  tears  lingered  on  either 
cheek.  That  was  Minnie  Hermon  ;  and  the  drunkard 
wept  as  the  familiar  shade  hovered  within  reach. 
With  the  energy  of  a  drowning  man,  Walter  grasped 
at  the  extended  hand.  There  was  a  wild,  unearthly 
howl,  and  the  serpent  leaped  upon  the  angel  forms. 
Walter  heard  the  violent  hissing  and  the  gnashing  of 
fangs,  and  then  a  low  sound  of  weeping  died  away  in 
the  distance.  The  form  first  seen  in  the  serpent's 
grasp  had  been  liberated,  while  the  monster  had  driv- 
en the  winged  shadows  away.  It  still  looked  up  to 
Walter  —  his  own  image  —  and  begged  piteously  for 
help.  But  while  that  despairing  eye  still  looked,  the 
serpent  returned,  and  slowly,  coil  upon  coil,  again 
bound  the  body  to  the  throat.  The  countenance  of 
Skillott  still  swayed,  and  sneered,  and  hissed,  upon  the 
arched  and  scaly  neck.  Again, he  saw  a  fresh  grave 
in  the  old  church-yard,  and  by  the  side  of  it  sat  a 
huge  monster  feastir>g  upon  his  human  carrion.  The 
face  of  the  dead  was  turned  to  his  view,  and  was  the 
same  he  had  seen,  with  its  deathly  agony  and  foam- 
covered  mouth.  It  was  by  his  father's  grave ;  and 
still  new  and  horrible  sights  crowded  upon  him. 
Looming  up  in  the  distant  gloom,  was  an  altar,  and  a 
blood-red  light  slowly  spreading  its  dull  glare  upon 


4-04  MINNIE   HEKMON. 

the  damp  atmosphere.  Upon  it  were  human  forms 
of  all  ages.  With  the  throat  gashed  to  the  spine,  a 
manly  frame  lay  consuming.  The  mother  and  her 
child  were  there  —  the  young  bride,  the  jewel  upon 
her  finger  glancing  like  a  star  in  the  half-revealed 
gloom,  and  her  tresses  of  wavy  black  matted  in  the 
ebbing  blood  of  the  suicide  husband.  Some  of  the 

O 

features  were  ghastly  with  disease,  and  pinched  with 
want  and  anguish.  Demons  there  gathered  to  the 
foul  feast — the  silence  startled  by  the  sounds  of  their 
infernal  revelry.  From  grated  windows  the  felon  and 
the  maniac  looked  out  upon  the  scene,  and  serpents 
slimed  up  the  scaffold,  and  fed  upon  its  shrouded  trib- 
ute. Slowly  the  monster  first  seen  glided  away,  and 
as  he  looked  again,  it  had  wrapped  the  corpse  upon 
the  scaffold,  its  head  still  swaying,  and  its  eye  upon 
him.  Walter  saw  himself  in  the  shroud.  He  was 
again  startled  by  the  hiss  at  his  ear,  its  breath  burn- 
ing like  a  flame  upon  his  skin.  He  could  not  stir  to 
escape.  The  nightmare  of  madness  was  upon  him, 
while  ten  thousand  devilish  forms  glided  towards  him. 
His  tongue  became  forked,  and  he  felt  the  snaky  fangs 
in  his  mouth.  His  head  swayed  on  a  scaly  neck,  and 
he  felt  the  cold,  slimy  folds  of  innumerable  serpents 
weaving  their  scaly  web  around  him.  He  answered 
hiss  for  hiss,  and  gnashed  his  fangs  as  they  did.  Each 
finger  grew  a  swaying  head  with  glittering  eye. 
They  crept  through  his  veins.  His  hair  writhed  in 
matted  locks.  The  scaffold  and  the  altar,  with  their 
blood-red  name,  came  nearer  and  nearer,  the  rope 


ANOTHER   VICTIM   IN  THE   NET.  405 

i 

changing  to  a  serpent,  the  arched  neck  bearing  the 
same  likeness  as  that  at  first  seen.  Then  came  once 
more  the  angel  shadows,  silently  and  tearfully  beck- 
oning him  away.  Springing  convulsively  to  reach 
the  outstretched  hand,  he  plunged  forward,  with  one 
wild,  agonizing  wail  for  help. 

It  was  a  fierce  struggle  which  Walter  Brayton  had 
passed  through.  In  the  horrible  delirium  of  the 
drunkard's  madness,  he  had  leaped  through  the  win- 
dow of  the  room  he  called  his  office,  out  upon  the  side- 
walk, and  fortunately  for  him,  was  first  seen  by  Hal- 
ton,  who  happened  to  be  passing  at  the  time.  With- 
out slumber,  the  frame  was  torn  with  torment  for  long 
days  and  nights.  On  one  side  were  his  friends,  on  the 
other,  death.  None  who  have  once  seen  a  victim 
cursed  with  the  drunkard's  madness,  will  ever  wish  to 
look  upon  the  like  again.  No  human  pen  can  dea 
cribe  it,  but  its  scenes  will  burn  into  the  eyeball  so 
deeply  that  they  never  pass  away.  For  the  time  be- 
ing, all  the  dread  enginery  of  hell  is  planted  in  the 
victim's  brain,  and  he  subjected  to  its  terrible  torment. 

But  Walter's  friends  were  true.  Their  efforts  and 
the  strength  of  a  good  constitution  triumphed  in  the 
conflict,  and  pale  and  trembling,  he  once  more  stood 
upon  his  feet,  the  ordeal  remaining  like  the  fearful 
shadow  of  .a  horrible  dream.  He  now  doubted  his 
rwn  strength,  and  leaned  upon  his  friends.  From 
them  he  received  tears  >and  kind  words,  and  felt  a 
heart-throb  in  every  palm.  With  them  he  went  to 


406  MINNIE   HEKMON. 

the  Division  Room,  and  became  a  Son  of  Temper 
ance — a  society  just  organized  in  Oak  vale.  He  passed 
from  darkness  to  light.  He  felt  the  shackles  falling 
from  his  soul  and  limbs,  and  again  stood  up  in  the 
dignity  of  his  manhood.  His  hands  were  wet  with 
tears  when  he  was  greeted  by  his  brothers.  With  a 
throat  full  of  emotion  and  a  swimming  eye,  he  re- 
turned the  greeting.  The  beautiful  and  sublime  ob- 
ligations had  fallen  upon  his  parched  spirit  like  the 
summer  shower,  and  the  greenness  of  his  heart  again 
bloomed ;  for  it  was  a  burning  crater  no  more.  The 
tempest-tossed  was  moored  in  still  waters.  "Waiter 
found  himself  among  those  with  whom  he  had  before 
labored.  Some  of  them  had  been  saved  by  his  elo- 
quence, and  they  now  stood  around,  rejoiced  to  save 
him.  He  was  called  out  with  more  than  old-fashioned 
enthusiasm  to  make  some  remarks.  He  arose,  and 
Stood  for  a  full  moment,  but  could  not  utter  a  word. 
That  silence  was  more  eloquent  than  words !  Not 
one  link  in  that  band  of  brothers  that  night,  which 
did  not  glisten  to  a  pure  and  holy  tear.  Arm  in  arm 
with  Ilalton,  Walter  passed  out  of  the  Division.  The 
cool  night  air  was  like  a  calm  kiss  upon  his  cheek. 
He  felt  like  a  new  man  — that  "Walter  Brayton  was  a 
drunkard  no  more !  The  thought  was  unutterable 
joy.  He  looked  out  upon  those  around  him,  and  up 
to  the  clear  blue  sky.  Every  star  seemed  a  beacon 
which  smiled  like  an  angel's  eye.  The  sky  looked 
bluer  and  the  stars  brighter.  His  own  heart  was 
stronger  and  holier,  and  he  went  to  his  humble  room 


ANOTHER   VICTIM   IN  THE   NET.  407 

with  a  steady  and  manly  tread.  His  friends  would 
have  persuaded  him  to  go  with  them,  but  he  wished 
to  be  alone.  In  the  still  solitude  of  his  room  he  knelt 
down  till  hours  went  by.  No  words  dropped  from, 
his  lips,  but  every  heart-throb  beat  up  against  Heav- 
en with  its  freight  of  gratitude,  and  ebbed  back  with 
a  blessed  light  upon  its  crest.  A  dark  ocean  was  be- 
hind him  —  a  brighter  future  before.  He  thought 
of  his  mother  and — yes  —  Minnie  Hermon.  The 
strong  heart  was  broken  up,  and  a  warm  flood  of 
tears  sealed  the  compact  with  himself,  his  mother  in 
Heaven,  and  God.  With  none  but  the  stars  to  look 
down  upon  him,  he  passed  out  into  the  silent  streets, 
and  walked  another  hour  to  make  sure  that  his  limbs 
were  free. 
— Walter  Bray  ton  was  saved  1 

IT 


CHAPTEE   XXXI. 

THE   SECRET  OUT A  FATAL   WAGEB. 

BITTER  sorrow  was  surging  in  the  old  heart  of  the 
Widow  Weston,  and  the  pleasant  chiming  of  the  Sab- 
bath bells  was  unheeded  by  her.  Her  bowed  frame 
was  bitterly  convulsed  with  agony  too  keen  for  the 
old  to  suffer.  A  regulated  curse  had  slimed  her 
hearth,  and  left  her  a  drunken  son  and  unutterable 
woe.  Tears  too  bitter  and  scalding  for  the  innocent 
to  shed,  were  crushed  out  by  an  iron  heel,  and  dripped 
their  way  down  the  withered  cheek. 

Colonel  Weston  had  been  the  very  soul  of  honor. 
He  was  a  gentleman  and  a  nobleman  by  nature. 
He  was  magnanimous  to  a  fault,  generous,  affable, 
upright,  and  genial-hearted.  He  was  a  friend  of  the 
poor,  the  stay  and  pride  of  his  widowed  mother,  a 
tower  of  strength  in  his  party,  and  an  ornament  to 
the  social  circle. 

The  rum  business  of  Oakvale  had  swept  under  the 
stalwart  oak,  and  the  lordly  trunk  lay  prostrate.  The 
generous  and  great-hearted  Weston  had  become  a 
drunkard.  The  blow  seemed  more  than  the  widow 
cjiild  bear.  With  her  dim  eyes  wet  with  tears  she 
bad  pleaded  with  men  that  he  might  be  spared  to  her 


THE   SECEET   OUT.  409 

in  her  last  days.     She  had  wrestled  with  God,  and 
yet  the  storm  beat  unchecked  upon  her  hearth. 

On  thfe  morning  we  have  introduced  the  Widow 
Weston  to  the  reader,  she  had  felt  that  she  could 
suffer  no  more.  Had  he  been  brought  home  dead 
and  no  stain  upon  him,  she  would  not  have  murmured 
at  the  stroke,  though  that  stroke  swept  away  all.  But 
at  daylight  he  had  been  brought  home  drunk,  and 
placed  helpless  upon  her  bed.  Her  heart  would  re- 
bel ;  she  did  not  curse  God,  but  she  cursed  men.  "Why 
must  the  only  link  left  her  of  her  kindred  upon  the 
earth,  be  thus  cruelly  wrenched  away  and  broken, 
and  her  home  filled  with  desolation  ?  Why  should 
she  be  robbed  of  an  only  son  late  in  the  evening  of 
her  life  ?  The  doctrine  that  a  removal  of  dramshops 
would  pro.ve  unconstitutional  and  infringe  upon  the 
natural  liberties  of  men,  had  never  entered  the  poor 
old  widow's  mind  !  She  felt  the  rough  iron  in  her  in- 
most soul,  feathered  by  government  and  sped  by  a 
licensed  hand.  She  could  not  wrench  it  out.  Could 
she  have  done  so,  another  and  another,  from  a  never 
exhausting  quiver,  would  have  entered  the  same 
wound.  Poor  ISTiobes — the  wives  and  mothers  of 
our  land  —  they  cannot  shield  a  single  heart  from  the 
remorseless  hunters.  They  have  bought  of  govern- 
ment, for  a  price,  the  blood  of  the  victims,  and  the 
victims  must  be  slain.  On  their  carrion  the  agents 
of  the  State  grow  fat,  entering  the  wretched  homes 
and  sitting  by  the  hearth  at  their  lawful  feast  of  ruin 
and  death.  We  cannot  wonder  that  those  who  feel 


410  MINNIE   HERMON. 

all  this  weight  of  woe,  do  not  comprehend  the  justice  or 
necessity  of  that  policy  which  is  the  producing  cause. 
They  have  not  yet  learned  that  the  red  plowshare  of 
ruin  which  rips  up  their  hearthstones,  is  so  regulated 
as  to  be  harmless  and  constitutional. 

With  many  misgivings,  Mrs.  Weston  had  consent- 
ed to  the  mortgage  of  the  old  homestead,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  procuring  funds  for  her  son  to  engage  in  bu- 
siness in  Oakvale.  She  could  not  see  it  all  clear, 
when  he  told  her  that  there  was  no  harm  in  engaging 
in  the  wholesale  liquor  business.  The  step  was  a  fa- 
tal one,  as  she  feared  from  the  first.  "VVeston  found 
his  partner  a  sharper,  and  the  funds  he  put  into  the 
establishment  were  soon  swallowed  up.  In  a  few 
months  ho  found  himself  a  bankrupt,  and  arrested  at 
tlje  instigation  of  his  partner,  on  a  charge.of  obtain- 
ing property  under  false  pretences,  because  he  had 
mortgaged  the  homestead,  on  which  his  mother  had 
a  life-lease.  These  results,  combined  with  habits  pre- 
viously formed,  and  greatly  increased  during  the  busi 
ness,  utterly  prostrated  Weston's  proud  spirit.  His 
pride  was  stung.  That  nice  sense  of  honor  and  high 
tone  of  feeling  which  wrere  so  characteristic  of  the 
man,  could  not  brook  his  reverses,  and  his  firmness 

y 

gave  way  to  his  besetting  vice.  He  became  reckless 
and  yielded  to  rum  and  its  kindred  evils.  Yet,  to  the 
last  of  his  career,  he  never  forgot  the  poor ;  and  a  cloud 
of  charities  unseen  by  the  public  eye,  were  dispensed 
from  a  hand  trembling  with  the  drunkard's  premature 
palsy. 


THE    SECRET   OUT.  4:11 

When  Colonel  Weston  entered  the  rum  business  in 
Oak  vale,  the  editor  of  the  new  temperance  paper  just 
started,  alluded  to  the  enterprise,  and  wondered  that 
a  man  of  so  much  intelligence  and  real  nobleness  of 
heart  should  engage  in  so  disreputable  a  business. 
Colonel  Weston  was  induced  to  believe  that  the  plain 
spoken  editor  was  an  enemy,  and  always  met  him 
coldly.  As  they  passed  each  other  one  afternoon, 
Weston  reeling,  Brantford,  the  editor,  turned  to  watch 
his  steps.  For  some  reason,  Weston  had  also  turned 
to  notice  his  supposed  enemy,  and  their  eyes  met. 

"  Colonel  Weston,  how  are  you  ?  "  said  Brantford, 
impulsively  stepping  forward  and  offering  his  hand. 
Weston  looked  indignant. 

"  "Well  enough.  Why  should  you  ask  ?  "  drawing 
himself  proudly  up. 

"  Because  I  am  your  friend." 

"  You  are  an  enemy,  sir,  and  I  cannot  give  you  my 
hand." 

"  Weston,  I  am  not  your  enemy.  God  knows  I  am 
a  friend.  Will  you  not  believe  it  ?  " 

"  How  can  I  ?  "  still  withholding  his  hand. 

"  Colonel  Weston,"  answered  Brantford,  in  tones 
low  and  tremulous  with  emotion,  "  look  in  my  eye, 
and  let  your  own  heart  tell  you  whether  Thomas 
Brantford  is  an  enemy !  "  Brantford  was  a  bold, 
plain-spoken,  honest  temperance  reformer  ;  but  under 
his  unassuming  exterior,  beat  a  heart  as  warm  and 
true  towards  his  fellow-man,  as  ever  battled  for  his 
good.  IJe  still  stood  with  his  hand  extended,  and  his 


412  MTSTNTE   HERMON. 

usually  dull  eye  flooded  with  tears.  "Weston  looked 
steadily,  astonished  that  he  had  known  so  little  of  the 
real  character  of  the  much-belied  editor.  The  eye 
told  the  truth.  "Weston's  lip  quivered  as  he  looked, 
his  own  red  eyes  filling  until  they  overflowed. 

"And  you  are  a  friend  of  mine ! "  he  .eagerly  ex- 
claimed. "  "Why  should  you  be  ?  "  grasping  the  ex- 
tended hand  firmly  in  his  own. 

"  I  am  a  friend  to  every  noble,  high-minded  man. 
I  know  of  none  towards  whom  I  feel  more  friendly 
than  yourself.  You  have  quite  misunderstood  me, 
Colonel." 

"I  feel — I  know  that. I  have,  but  I  did  not  think 
it !  But,"  and  he  hesitated,  as  he  dropped  his  eyes  to 
the  walk,  "  I  do  not  deserve  your  friendship ;  I  am  not 
high-minded  and  noble.  "Weston  is — my  God!  that 
he  should  ever  be  compelled  to  say  it !  —  is  de- 
graded !  " 

"  Enough,  Colonel ;  I  know  all  that,  as  an  honest 
man,  you  would  say.  Let  the  past  go.  You  have  a 
host  of  friends  yet." 

"Friends  !  "  "Weston  bitterly  replied,  as  if  lost  in 
thought.  "  They  were  not  friends.  They  all  shun  the 
penniless  ,  God  !  Brantford,  I  can't  say  it." 

"  I  know  all.  You  need  not  say  it.  Don't  let  the 
world  say  it  longer.  I  can  find  friends  who  will  stand 
by  you." 

"  Where  ?  "  I  did  not  suppose  I  had  more  than  one 
friend,  my — my  mother.  God  knows  I  do  not  de- 
serve her  —  the  best,  yet  most  deeply  injured." 


THE   SECRET   OUT.  413 

"  She  never  deserts.  Colonel.  Go  to  her.  If  it 
were  necessary,  I  would  give  this  arm,"  laying  the 
left  hand  upon  the  right  shoulder,  "  to  send  you  back' 
to  her  all  that  you  once  were."  "Weston  wrung  Brant- 
ford's  hand  fiercely,  but  his  features  were  now  black 
with  despair. 

"  That  would  do  no  good.  lam  lost !  You  do  not 
know  how  deeply  I  have  fallen.  I  am  disgraced  and 
penniless.  "Worse  than  that :  I  have  well  nigh  beg- 
gared my  mother.  Ko,  no  ;  it's  of  no  use.  I  can't 
be  saved  ;  I  am  not  worth  saving.  The  quicker  I  am 
dead  the  better.  I  cannot  live  so." 

"  But  your  mother  !     She  needs  you." 

"  There  'tis  again.  She  is  now  heart-broken.  It 
will  be  cruel  —  to  weep  over  the  grave  of  her  drunk- 
en child !  Merciful  God  !  were  this  demon  driven  out, 
and  I  what  I  once  was  —  what  you  now  are,  Brant- 
ford — and  knew  that  she  would  shed  her  holy  tears  for 
a  sober  child  in  his  grave,  I  would  joy  to  be  drawn 
into  quarters  —  I  would  die  a  thousand  deaths.  To 
die  a  drunkard  !  "  and  the  strong  man  sobbed  convul- 
sively. "  O  how  dark  an  end  is  that !  They  will  write 
it  on  the  stone,  '  Colonel  "Weston  died  a  drunkard  !  ' 
And  that  other  world  —  you  believe  in  the  future, 
Brantford  —  what  of  that  ?  All  dark  and  hopeless  1 
But,"  and  he  looked  eagerly  into  Brantford's  face, 
"  they  won't  sell  me  rum  there,  will  they  ?  My  fcell 
is  bad  enough  now  ! " 

His  manner  was  wild,  desperate,  hopeless.     Brant- 


414:  MINNIE   HERMON. 

ford  plead  long  and  earnestly,  but  TVeston  would 
make  no  promise. 

"  Good-bye,  my  friend  — I  know  you  are  snch.  If 
you  do  not  see  me  again,  tell  others  to  shun  my  foot- 
steps. I  have  tried  my  teeth  in  vain  upon  my  fetters. 
There  is  not  a  dealer  in  the  village  who  will  not  sell 
me  rum  while  I  have  money  to  pay  for  it.  Remem- 
ber my  —  you  know  who  —  my — 

"Mother?" 

"  Yes.  I  cannot ;  it  is  too  holy  a  word  for  me  to 
speak.  Had  I  listened  to  her  counsel,  I  should  not 
have  been  thus.  But  it  matters  not ;  it  will  soon  be 
over.  Good-bye !  " 

Brantford  watched  "Weston  until  he  turned  down 
the  street  and  was  out  of  sight.  From  that  night's 
revel  he  was  carried  home  as  we  have  seen  him  at 
the  commencement  of  the  chapter.  As  Mrs.  Weston 
knelt  over  his  form  and  brushed  the  matted  locks  from 
the  brow,  and  imprinted  a  kiss  upon  the  parched  lips, 
she  found  the  brand  of  the  curse  between  her  and 
her  child.  The-  fumes  of  rum  polluted  the  lips,  and 
went  down  like. a  dark  cloud  into  her  soul.  The 
kisses  which  had  been  sealed  upon  the  puro'lips  of 
childhood,  had  been  burned  away  by  the  fiery  flood 
of  intemperance. 

Two  weeks  later,  Thomas  Brantford  sat  at  the  table 
of  ^Irs.  Weston,  and  the  subject  of  the  new  temper- 
ance organization  was  introduced. 

"  I  suppose,"  remarked  the  widow,  as  she  laid  her 


THE   SECRET   OUT.  415 

hand  upon  the  tea-pot,  "  that  you  are  a  Son  of  Tem- 
perance ? " 

"  I  am,"  was  the  unhesitating  answer. 

"Your  Order,  as  you  call  it,  I  believe,  is  a  secret 
society,  is  it  not,  Mr.  Brantford  ? " 

"  As  I  understand  the  term,  it  is  not." 

"  But  you  do  not  admit  every  one,  do  you  ? " 

"  Certainly  not ;  but  our  members  are  all  known, 
as  is  the  place  where  we  assemble,  and  our  object — 
that  is  openly  avowed." 

"  You  have  some  ceremonies,  I  suppose  ? " 

"  "We  have.  But  none  but  what  God  himself  could 
approve,  if  properly  conducted.  They  are  simple, 
pure  and  impressive." 

"  But  you  are  bound  by  your  oaths  not  to  reveal 
the  secret,  whatever  it  is  ? " 

"  We  have  no  oaths,  and,  no  secrets  which  we 
should  be  ashamed  to  have  the  world  know,  so  far  as 
their  character  is  concerned.  The  pledge  of  an  hon- 
orable man  is  our  strongest  obligation." 

"  You  do  deny  that  your  society  is  a  secret  one, 
then  ?  " 

"  Why,  to  be  sure,  we  have  some  business  matters 
that  are  kept  secret,  as  it  is  termed.  It  is  necessary 
that  they  should  be  kept  so.  They  concern  none  but 
ourselves,  and  the  business  we  oppose." 

"  If  I  should  tell  you  the  secret,  Mr.  Branfcford, 
would  you  frankly  acknowledge  it  ?  " 

"  Why,  as  to  that,  Mrs.  Weston,  we  are  obligated 
not  to  reveal  any  of  the  private  affairs  of  the  Or*.le*  ' 


4:16  MINNIE    HERMON. 

"  Just  as  I  thought.  You  have  secrets,  then,  which 
you  dare  not  —  are  bound  not  to  reveal." 

"  If  you  had  promised  to  keep  a  neighbor's  secret, 
would  you  reveal  it,  though  there  should  be  no  oath 
in  the  matter?  Or,  if  something  occurred  in  your 
family  which  you  felt  had  better  be  kept  to  yourself, 
would  you  feel  that  you  were  doing  wrong  to  do  so  ? " 

"  Not  a  whit,  Mr.  Brantford.  But  there  has  some- 
thing occurred.  I  have  a  secret  which  I  want  you 
to  know." 

"  You  will'prob  ably  violate  no  obligation  in  reveal- 
ing it?" 

"  No,  I  am  under  obligation  rather,  to  out  with  it. 
And,  sir,  I  will  make  you,  Son  as  you  are,  own  the 
secret  of  your  Order." 

"  It  may  be." 

The  tea  was  smoking  in  the  cups,  but  so  earnestly 
had  the  conversation  been  carried  on,  that  neither 
had  yet  commenced  eating.  Mrs.  Weston  wiped  her 
glasses,  and  in  -a  more  serious  tone  began  : 

"I  need  not  tell  you,  Mr.  Brantford,  about  the  his- 
tory of  the  past.  You  know  the  Colonel  —  you  know 
it  all.  He  is  my  only  child.  A  mother  may  be  par- 
tial, I  know  ;  but  I  may  say  that,  aside  from  the  fear- 
ful habit  which  has  so  grown  upon  him,  he:.s  al)  that 
a  mother  could  wish.  He  is  the  only  one  it/t,  me 
to  love —  the  idol  of  my  old  age.  You  are  awa**e  of 
his  habits  ;  but  you  know  nothing  of  the  sorrow  they 
have  wrought  for  me.  I  cannot  tell  it,  and  God  only 
knows  it.  I  have  loved  the  boy  with  all  the  bound- 


THE   SECRET   OUT. 


less  depth  of  a  mother's  love,  and  have  leaned  upon 
him  as  my  feeble  steps  have  neared  the  grave.  I  have 
prayed,  and  plead,  and  wept,  and  suffered  on,  until 
it  seemed  that  my  poor  heart  could  bear  no  more. 
Oh,  it  is  cruel  to  receive  harsh  language  from  a  child 
so  loved.  See  here  ?  "  and  she  bared  her  withered 
arm,  "  here  is  a  secret  which  you  will  not  reveal. 
Three  weeks  ago,  while  intoxicated,  he  struck  me, 
and  the  blow  entered  my  very  soul.  It  is  hard,  Mr. 
Brantford,  to  have  a  blow  from  such  a  hand  —  hard." 
She  leaned  back  in  her  chair,  and  wiped  the  tears 
from  under  her  glasses.  "  You  remember,"  she  con- 
tinued, how  he  was  brought  home  two  Sabbaths  ago, 
and  his  severe  sickness.  Night  before  last,  two  stran- 
gers came  and  inquired  for  him.  My  heart  fluttered, 
and  I  know  I  was  short  with  them  ;  but  really,  I  feared 
they  were  some  of  his  drinking  companions,  and  I 
dreaded  the  worst.  They  were  courteous,  however,  and 
I  showed  them  into  his  room.  I  grew  more  suspicious 
as  they  closed  the  door  behind  them  and  entered  into 
conversation.  You  will  forgive  me,  Mr.  Brantford, 
but  I  could  not  help  watching  them  through  the  key- 
hole. I  was  determined  that,  if  they  were  his  tavern 
companions,  he  should  not  leave  the  house  with  them. 
My  son  was  sitting  on  the  bed  with  tears  in  his  eyes, 
and  one  of  the  strangers  each  side  of  him.  I  saw 
them  shake  hands,  and  then  the  strangers  went  out." 
To  all  my  anxious  inquiries,  I  could  get  no  answer. 
Last  night  the  same  individuals  came  again,  and  my 
son  commenced  putting  on  his  things  to  leave  with 


418  MINNIE   HEUMON. 

them.  "With  a  sad  but  strong  heart,  I  placed  my  hand 
upon  his  arm,  and  looked  beseechingly  in  his  eye.  '  I 
must  go,  Mother,'  (he  answered  me  kindly,)  '  it  is 
business  of  importance ;  but  1  will  be  home  early.' 
They  passed  out,  and  I  turned  away  to  pray.  I  wres- 
tled with  God,  and  my  prayers  were  answered.  About 
ten  o'clock  I  heard  footsteps  on  the  walk,  and  my 
heart  grew  still  with  dread.  Thank  the  good  God, 
Mr.  Brantford,  they  were  steady.  The  door  was 
thrown  open,  and  my  son  stood  upon  the  threshold. 
It  seemed  as  though  I  should  sink  as  I  watched  him  ; 
but  my  heart  bounded  with  new  hope  —  he  was  not 
drunk  !  No,  Mr.  Brantford,  he  wasn't  drunk  !  Com- 
ing towards  me,  he  put  his  arms  around  my  neck  as 
he  used  to  when  a  child,  and  I  felt  the  warm  tears  as 
he  kissed  me  again  and  again.  1  was  so  happy,  Mr. 
Brantford  !  "  and  again  she  wept  in  silence.  "At  last 
he  said,  '  Mother,  my  own  deeply  injured  mother,  can 
you  ever  forgive  me  ?  Look  on  me  now.  I  am  sober. 
Yes,  Mother,  I  am  free.  Hear  that !  free,  and  a  man 
once  more.  I'll  love  you  now  as  I  once  did,  and  you 
shall  love  me  again.  Will  you  not,  my  Mother  ?  "We 
will  forget  the  dark  past.  You  shall  dry  your  tears 
and  be  happy  again.  No  more  sorrow  here  —  no 
more  unkindness.  God  forgive  me,  Mother !  but  I 
will  not  strike  you  again.  I  will  be  all  that  a  son 
should  be  to  so  good  a  parent  —  my  only  one.  Look 
up  !  Mother,  I  am  a  Son  of  Temperance  !  Don't 
that  make  your  old  heart  glad  ? '  I  knelt  down,  and 
it  seeme4  to  me  that  my  heart  never  so  went  out  in 


THE   8ECKET   OUT.  419 

prayer  to  God  for  so  much  good.  My  son  still  clung 
to  my  hand,  and  when  I  arose,  I  'noticed  that  the  two 
strangers  had  entered,  and  were  kneeling,  also.  My 
son  is  saved  ;  and  O !  I  am  so  happy.  Now,  Mr. 
Brantford,  I  have  found  out  the  secret  of  your  Order. 
It  is  to  meet  the  returning  prodigal,  and  to  restore 
him  to  those  who  mourn  for  him  as  one  lost,  and  make 
old  hearts  and  homes  happy.  Isn't  that  it  ?  "  Brant- 
ford  raised  his  head  from  his  hand,  and  with  a  wet 
cheek,  replied  with  a  monosyllable. 

"  And  may  the  widow's  God  prosper  the  Order  in 
all  lands,"  fervently  ejaculated  Mrs.  "Weston. 

While  Colonel  Weston  was  engaged  in  the  liquor 
business,  one  of  his  peddlers  had  sold  liquor  to  a  tav- 
ern-keeper in  a  village  upon  the  canal.  After  much 
solicitation  from  the  assignees,  he  consented  to  go  and 
collect  the  bill. 

"Weston  reached  the  village  on  Friday  night,  and 
put  out  his  horse  at  the  tavern  where  the  liquor  had 
been  sold.  A  company,  of  questionable  character, 
was  assembled  for  a  dance.  Somewhat  at  a  loss  for 
something  to  amuse  himself  about,  "Weston  thought 
he  would  dance  one  figure,  and  then  retire  to  his  bed. 
He  danced  again  and  again,  liquor  in  the  meantime 
flowing  freely  above  and  below.  After  refusing  to 
drink  several  times,  he  was  taunted  by  one  of  the 
managers  with  a  disposition  to  "sneak,"  and  not  stand 
his  part.  This  was  touching  "Weston  in  a  tender  point 
—  and  besides,  the  smell  and  presence  of  the  liquor — 
the  gurgling  sound,  the  jingle  of  glasses,  and  the 


420  MINNIE  HERMON. 

drumming  of  the  toddy-stick,  had  aroused  the  not-yet 
weakened  enemy  in  his  bosom.  Excited  and  waver- 
ing, he  thought  he  would  drink  slightly  and  get  out 
of  the  scrape. 

An  hoar  later,  and  Weston  was  mad  with  rum. 
lie  alternately  drank  and  danced  until  morning.  The 
bar-room  was  crowded,  and  the  revel  continued  there. 
While  the  company  were  drinking  around,  as  they 
called  it,  a  notorious  young  sot  came  in  from  the  vil- 
lage, and  took  a  part.  He  had  already  squandered  a 
fortune  of  forty-thousand  dollars,  left  him  by  his  father. 
This  young  man,  whom  we  will  call  Hoover,  finally 
gave  Wcston  a  challenge.  He  said  he  could  drink 
any  man  drunk  from  Oak  vale.  "Weston  was  in  just 
the  mood  to  accept  the  wager,  and  did  so.  The  bar 
was  left  wholly  to  the  contestants,  and  Monongahela 
whisky  produced  for  the  trial.  With  that  disposition 
to  be  honorable  and  fair,  characteristic  of  the  man, 
Colonel  Weston  every  time  poured  out  the  two  glass- 
es, and  gave  Hoover  his  choice.  They  kept  up  the 
strife  until  they  had  drank  nearly  a  quart  each. 
Twice  in  that  time,  Hoover,  as  usual  with  him  on  such 
sprees,  had  stolen  out,  and  there  threw  his  liquor  from 
the  stomach,  while  Weston  would  have  scorned  such 
an  act. 

Two  more  glasses  stood  ready  on  the  counter,  and 
Hoover  was  asked  to  take  his  choice.  lie  turned  his 
liquor  off  with  a  steady  hand.  Weston  took  his  in  a 
trembling  grasp,  and,  drinking  but  a  portion  of  it, 
set  the  glass  'heavily  down  and  turned  away.  But 


THE   FATAL   WAGER.  421 

no  hand  was  readied  in  to  guide  him  out  from  that 
band  of  jeering  devils.  He  was  sneered  and  hissed  at 
for  yielding.  His  pride  was  touched,  and  he  turned, 
grasped  the  glass  with  both  hands,  turned  the  con- 
tents all  off,  and  with  a  sickly  smile  upon  his  counte- 
nance, fell  heavily  forward  upon  the  bar-room  floor, 
dead!  He  was  carried  out  and  rolled  for  the  purpose 
of  getting  the  liquor  out  of  his  stomach.  While  un- 
dergoing this  process,  Hoover  stole  his  money  from 
his  pocket ! 

Weston  was  carried  into  an  upper  room,  and  with- 
out a  friend  to  watch  or  a  mother  to  weep,  left  while 
the  revel  went  on  below.  There  lay  the  corpse,  the 
eyes  glaring,  the  arms  flung  out,  and  the  liquor  well- 
ing up  and  out  of  the  distorted  mouth, —  there,  on 
Sabbath  morning,  and  in  the  bar-room  below  were 
forty-two  drunken  revelers  !  The  tavern  was  under 
the  usual  regulations  as  per  law  ! 

The  news  of  Weston's  death  was  broken  tenderly 
to  his  mother. 

"  My  son  dead !  How  did  he  die,  Mr.  Holley ;  tell 
me,  how  did  he  die  ?  " 

"  He  died  in  a  fit,  I  believe." 

"  God  Almighty  be  thanked  for  that,"  she  sobbed, 
as  she  locked  her  hands  together  and  turned  her 
streaming  eyes  upward.  "  Yes,  I  thank  God  for  that. 
Though  my  all  is  taken  away,  yet  he  did  not  die  a 
drunkard  ! " 

Mr.  Holley  and  the  friends  believed  it  would  be 
kindness  to  keep  the  truth  from  Mrs.  Weston-.  Brant- 


422  MINNIE   HERMON. 

ford  did  not  give  them  in  his  paper.  But  the  widow 
learned  the  particulars  at  last,  and  the  wound  of  his 
death  bled  deeper  than  at  first. 

"God  forgive  me,  but  I  curse  them.  They  killed 
my  son,  and  I  curse  them.  Why  did  that  man  give 
him  drink  ?  Had  he  come  at  night  and  shot  my  boy 
at  my  hearth,  I  could  have  knelt  down  and  blessed 
him.  But  he  killed  him  —  he  killed  him  !  O  God ! 
this  is  bitter  indeed,  and  hard  to  bear.  Now  give 
me  the  rest  of  the  grave,  for  all  is  dark  to  me." 

The  stricken  woman  swayed  and  sobbed  in  the  old 
arm  chair,  and  found  the  heart  yet  full  of  its  scalding 
flood,  every  drop  more  bitter  than  ever  before. 

—  Mrs.  Weston  still  lingers  at  the  homestead,  her 
gray  hairs  going  down  in  sorrow  to  the  grave.  The 
property  value  of  a  quart  of  Monongahela  whisky 
was  saved  by  the  rum-dealer,  a  defenceless,  unoffend- 
ing old  woman  robbed  of  her  only  son,  and  society 
of  a  talented  and  noble-minded  citizen!  It  would 
have  been  tyrannical  and  unconstitutional  to  have 
destroyed  that  quart  of  liquor ;  but  it  was  all  right 
and  legal  and  constitutional  to  destroy  a  man  like 
Colonel  Weston,  and  wring  his  mother's  heart  with 
worse  than  savage  torture  I 


CHAPTEK   XXXII. 

A   GROUPING  OF   SCENES. 

AMONG  those  who  regretted  "Walter  Brayton's  re- 
form was  Skillott ;  for  new  fuel  had  been  added  to 
the  hatred  of  the  latter.  Walter  had  called  upon  him 
and  made  inquiries  in  relation  to  the  Will,  and  about 
the  money  which  the  Judge  pretended  that  the  elder 
Brayton  had  borrowed.  The  inquiry  was  unwelcome, 
and  the  searching  tone  in  which  it  was  made  was  sug- 
gestive to  the  suspicions  of  the  uneasy  dignitary  ;  and 
he  answered  tartly,  and  intimated  that  he  did  not 
wish  to  hear  any  more  about  the  matter  from  one  who 
was  rngrateful  and  ready  to  be  put  up  to  abuse  him 
when  he  had  done  so  much  for  him.  This  language 
aroused  Brayton,  for  he  had  learned  of  Skillott's 
treachery  in  the  canvass  at  the  time  he  was  up  for 
Congress,  and  he  charged  the  Judge  with  being  the 
author  of  the  slanders,  and  the  cause  of  his  defeat. 
Hot  words  ensued,  and  Brayton  openly  charged  him 
with  defrauding  his  father,  if  not  guilty  of  a  still 
worse  crime  against  the  old  man.  The  quarrel  was 
a  hitter  one,  the  manner  and  language  of  Skillott 
going  far  to  convince  Wa.ter  that  there  were  good 
grounds  for  his  suspicions.  Late  on  the  evening  after 


42-i  MINNIE   HERMON. 

the  meeting  of  Brayton  and  Skillott,  the  latter  was 
closeted  with  Herraon  at  the  Home,  in  low  and  earn- 
est conversation.  The  unscrupulous  Judge  was  not 
yet  safe  from  those  whom  he  had  wronged.  Guilt 
must  be  shielded  with  guilt. 

On  the  evening  in  question,  a  drover  had  put  up  at 
the  Home,  the  other  hotels  being  full  during  the 
County  Fair.  The  man  had  passed  down  to  New- 
York  a  few  weeks  before,  with  a  very  large  drove  of 
cattle,  and  was  now  on  his  return.  In  the  course  of 
the  evening  he  drank  freely,  and  insisted  on  treating 
frequently  the  numerous  company  around  him.  As 
he  became  intoxicated  he  was  communicative,  and 
disposed  to  boast  of  his  means,  and  display  the  large 
amounts  of  money  he  had  with  him.  Lane,  who  was 
now  in  partnership  with  Hermon,  was  one  of  the  most 
forward  in  urging  the  old  man  to  drink.  Towards 
midnight  the  drover  was  carried  to  the  back  chamber 
and  put  in  bed.  Soon  after,  the  lights  in  the  Home 
were  all  extinguished,  and  the  house  closed  for  the 
night. 

On  this  day  Minnie  Hermon  had  found  new  ingre- 
dients mingled  in  her  bitter  cup.  From  some  cause 
or  other,  Ilermon  had  been  induced  to  be  the  bearer 
of  a  base  proposition  to  his  own  daughter,  from  Skil- 
lott. Minnie  looked  into  the  drunkard's  face  with 
astonishment  too  deep  for-  utterance.  She  could 
hardly  believe  that  she  heard  aright  as  she  stood  with 
her  lips  apart  and  colorless  as  marble.  As  the  full 
import  of  her  father's  words  slowly  came  to  her  un 


A   GROUPING   OF  SCENES.  425 

derstanding,  the  blood  came  quick  and  hot  to  her 
cheek,  and  her  languid  eye  kindled  with  fire. 

"  And  this  language  from  my  father  !  ""  she  passion- 
ately exclaimed.  "  Great  God  !  has  it  come  to  this  ! 
John  Hermon,  are  you  so  imbruted  with  rum  as  to 
breathe  such  baseness  to  an  only  child?  Is  it  true? 
Or  is  it  a  horrible  dream  ?  Tell  me  it  is  false,  Father. 
I  can  die  for  you,  for  I  promised  my  mother  to  cling 
to  you  ;  but  this  is  horrible.  Unsay  the  cruel  words 
or  you  will  kill  me." 

Hermon  answered  with  a  brutal  laugh,  telling  her 
that  she  might  as  well  be  the  mistress  of  a  judge  as 
of  a  long-coated  hypocrite. 

"  John  Ilermon,"   she   gasped,   with   vehemence, 
"  were  I  man  and  you  less  than  a  father,  I  would  re 
Bent  such  language  as  this.     God  knows  I  am  not  do 
serving  of  such  treatment  from  you." 

"  Why,  Min.,  the  Judge  loves  you." 

"  It's  a  lie,  father !  He  has  already  insulted  me  in 
our  own  house." 

"  Come,  now,  don't  be  (hie)  silly  ;  the  fact  is,  we 
are  under  some  obligations  —  ahem  —  to  the  Judge." 

o  o 

"  No  obligations  on  earth  should  induce  a  father  to 
harbor  one  moment  such  thoughts  as  you  have  uttered 
to  me." 

"I  —  I  —  (hie)  1  don't  like  to  offend  him,  you 
know,  and — " 

"Craven  !  and  you  would  listen  to  him  rather  than 
to  offend  him,  and  then  stoop  to  retail  his  baseness. 
John  Hermon  would  not  have  so  stooped  once !  " 


426  MDTNIE   HERMON. 

"  Take  care,  Miss ;  you  don't  know  it  all.  You 
may  be  sorry  if  you  treat  (hie)  the  Judge  disrespect- 
fully. I  —  the  fact  is  —  I  owe  him." 

"And  you  would  sell  me  to  a  human  monster  !  Fa- 
ther, I  have  borne  with  disgrace,  and  the  desertion  of 
friends  —  with  violence  at  your  hands.  I  can  bear 
still,  but  never  a  word  more  of  what  you  have  now 
whispered  —  and  do  you  hear  ?  —  I  will  not.  I  will 
die,  and  be  at  rest  with  my  sainted  mother." 

"  There  'tis  —  sainted  mother,  again.  I've  told  you 

enough,  you  hussy,  to  stop  such  d d  nonsense. 

Take  that  for  your  impudence  ;  I  am  not  so  drunk  as 
not  to  rule  in  my  own  house,"  and  he  glared  upon 
the  girl  as  she  reeled  under  his  heavy  blow.  "  And 
see  here,  Miss,  none  of  your  sauce  to  Skillott,"  he 
concluded,  as  he  turned  away. 

How  the  blow  burned  on  the  wasted  cheek !  Oth- 
ers had  preceded  it,  hurting  the  swollen  heart  more 
than  the  flesh.  In  her  room,  Minnie  wept  herself 
into  calm  despair,  and  prayed  for  death.  "  Oh,  my 
mother,"  she  exclaimed,  "  why  did  you  bind  me  to  a 
fate  like  this?" 

Minnie  could  think  of  no  one  to  whom  she  could 
tell  her  troubles,  or  look  for  protection,  and  she  feared 
the  time  might  come  when  she  would  need  the  strong 
arm  of  a  friend.  She  thought  of  one  who  was  now  a 
stranger,  but  her  true  woman's  heart  rejoiced  at  the 
news  of  his  reformation.  Ilalton  was  her  friend  — 
she  would  call  on  him,  for  if  the  worst  came,  she  must 
have  some  place  to  flee.  Even  as  she  that  night 


A   QKODPING   OF   SCENES.  427 

passed  up  the  stairs,  Lane  had  placed  himseli  before 
her  room  door  with  an  insulting  leer.  Where  was 
the  Hermit  all  this  time,  she  wondered,  as  she  threw 
on  her  hood,  determined  to  visit  Halton's  even  at  that 
late  hour  —  a  presentiment  of  coming  ill  preventing 
her  from  seeking  slumber. 

As  she  stood  at  the  head  of  the  stairs,  listening  to 
learn  if  there  were  any  persons  up  in  the  house,  she 
was  startled  by  the  careful  opening  of  the  bar-room 
door,  and  the  stealthy  steps  of  two  individuals  upon 
the  bottom  steps.  Fearing  that  she  could  not  reach 
her  own  room  in  time,  she  stepped  through  the  door- 
way into  the  back  chamber,  not  knowing  that  there 
was  any  one  within.  Her  fears  were  increased  as 
those  whom  she  had  heard  followed  her  through  tho 
doorway  into  the  room.  There  was  a  dark  closet 
made  of  rough  boards,  between  the  wall  and  the 
chimney,  with  a  narrow  door  hung  upon  leathers. 
Minnie  entered  this,  awaiting  the  departure  of  the 
intruders,  or  an  opportunity  of  stealing  out  unheard- 
She  could  plainly  hear  the  whispering  of  two  persons, 
and  immediately  she  noticed  a  beam  of  light  in  the 
closet.  As  it  entered  through  a  knot  hole  in  the  rude 
partition  just  below  the  latch,  she  could,  by  stooping, 
observe  all  that  occurred  in  the  room.  She  was  sur- 
prised to  see  some  one  on  the  bed  asleep,  and  before 
it  her  father  and  Lane,  a  candle,  pail,  and  a  blanket 
which  they  proceeded  to  hang  before  the  window,  af- 
ter Lane  had  care.fully  turned  the  key  in  the  door. 
The  latter  act  precluded  all  possibility  of  her  present 


4:28  MINNIE   HEEMON. 

escape  from  her  unpleasant  position.  The  two  held 
a  brief  consultation  in  low  whispers,  but  they  were 
so  near  her  place  of  concealment  that  she  heard  all 
that  was  said. 

"  You  are  sure  he  wont  wake  ? "  asked  Herraon. 

"  Sure,  I  tell  you,"  replied  Lane,  "  for  the  dose 
was  a  big  one." 

Minnie  shuddered  as  the  words  assumed  a  signifi- 
cant meaning,  but  more  as  she  saw  them  pull  off 
their  coats  and  roll  their  shirt  sleeves  above  the  el- 
bows, Lane  having  a.  large,  broad-bladed  knife  in  his 
hand.  The  candle  slightly  trembled  in  her  father's 
hand,  and  even  Lane's  face,  desperado  as  he  was,  was 
paler  than  she  had  ever  seen  it  before.  She  dreaded 
some  fearful  scene,  and  yet  certainly  her  father  —  ah  ! 
she  had  it ;  the  man  was  sick  and  must  be  bled.  But 
then  again,  such  a  blade,  and  not  either  her  father 
or  Lane  were  doctors.  She  now  for  the  first  time  no- 
ticed that  the  pail  contained  water,  and  that,  setting 
towards  the  door,  was  a  large  tub. 

The  two  whispered  again,  looked  towards  the  bed, 
then  at  each  other,  when  Lane  made  a  gesture  of  read- 
iness with  his  knife.  Minnie's  heart  ceased  to  beat, 
as  she  saw  her  father  carefully  lift  the  sleeping  man's 
shoulders  and  draw  him  over  the  edge  of  the  bed,  and 
then,  after  untying  his  cravat  and  unbuttoning  his 
shirt  collar,  bend  the  head  back  over  the  tub,  which 
had  been  placed  under  him.  He  then  turned  his 
own  head  away,  and  stood  as  far  off  as  he  could.  She 
eaw  a  movement  by  Lane,  a  glance  of  steel,  and 


A   GKOUPING   OF   SCENES.  429 

heard,  as  her  head  swam  in  darkness,  a  gurgling,  cho- 
king sound  from  the  bed.  With  one  wild,  piercing 
shriek,  she  sank  upon  the  floor,  insensible. 

•  •••••  •  • 

The  next  jnorning  it  was  rumored  that  the  drovei 
had  beeu  murdered  in  the  streets.  A  score  of  differ- 
ent stories  were  flying  about,  but  all  fixing  upon  Wal- 
ter Brayton  as  the  murderer.  As  the  latter  cama 
from  his  boarding  place  to  his  office,  he  was  aston- 
ished to  find  it  surrounded  by  a  crowd  of  nearly  one 
thousand  people,  all  in  a  high  state  of  excitement,  and 
attracted  by  some  object  in  the  office.  So  eager  were 
all  to  catch  a  view  of  the  point  of  interest,  that  he 
had  not  been  noticed  as  he  had  wedged  through  the 
crowd,  and  now  stood  at  his  office  door.  Skillott  first 
saw  him. 

"  There  he  comes,"  shouted  Jud  Lane,  as  he,  too, 
caught  sight  of  Walter ;  "  let's  hang  him." 

" Hang  him  !  "  was  caught  up  by  the  crowd  and 
went  fiercely  round,  while  the  mass  swayed  as  if  one 
common  pulse  throbbed  throughout.  Angry  brows 
were  bent  darkly  upon  the  bewildered  man,  and  om- 
inous words  were  whispered  by  more  than  one  sober 
citizen.  His  very  appearance  was  looked  upon  as  a 
bold  piece  of  acting  to  give  the  impression  of  inno- 
cence. 

"What  —  what  does  this  mean?"  finally  asked 
Brayton,  looking  about  him  with  astonishment. 

"  It  means  that  you  are  a  black-hearted  villain  and 
a  murderer  •  tliafs  what  it  means,"  said  Jud  Lane, 


430  MINNIE   HEEMON. 

thrusting  his  clenched  fist  into  Brayton's  face.  With 
a  quick,  strong  sweep  of  his  powerful  arm,  the  latter 
struck  the  landlord  to  the  ground. 

"  Hang  him  up  !  Away  with  him  !  Hang  him 
up  !  "  was  literally  howled  forth,  as  the  act  was  wit- 
nessed. 

"  For  what  ?  Why  this  crowd  ?  And  why  such  lan- 
guage to  me  ?  "  demanded  Brayton,  as  the  lion  in  him 
began  to  stir,  and  he  raised  himself  to  his  full  height. 

"  You'll  find  out  soon  enough,"  was  the  reply  from 
several  quarters. 

At  this  juncture,  Judge  Skillott  took  off  his  hat,  the 
crowd  becoming  orderly  as  they  noticed  his  wish  to 
speak. 

"  Fellow-citizens,  one  whom  we  well  know,  Mr. 
Brayton,  is  charged  with  a  revolting  crime.  Last 
night  Mr.  Nye,  the  drover,  was  murdered  by  some 
one.  The  body,  with  the  throat  cut  from  ear  to  ear,  has 
been  found  hidden  in  Mr.  Brayton's  office,  together 
with  the  watch  and  pocket-book  of  the  deceased. 
Suspicion  has  fallen  strongly  upon  Mr.  Brayton  as  the 
one  who  perpetrated  the  crime.  It  is  to  be  hoped  by 
all  his  friends  that  he  will  be  able  to  clear  himself  of 
the  charge.  In  the  mean  time,  as  friends  of  good 
order  and  law,  I  feel  constrained  to  urge  you  all  to  go 
into  no  violent  measures,  assuring  you  that  the  ma- 
josty  of  the  law  will  be  vinc1:cated,  and  the  guilty 
brought  to  punishment.  One  unlawful  act  does  not 
justify  another." 

Walter,  with  that  keenness  of  intellect  character- 


A   GROUTING   OF  SCENES.  4:31 

istic  of  himself,  at  once  comprehended  the  fiend-like 
cunning  of  the  plot  to  ruin  him,  and  his  lip  quivered 
as  the  officers  came  forward  and  placed  the  fetters 
upon  his  hands,  and  he  passed  through  the  frowning 
crowd  to  the  jail. 

The  time  of  Doctor  Howard's  trial  at  last  came 
round,  and  found  him  as  unprepared  as  at  first.  He 
had  left  no  effort  unmade  for  the  discovery  of  the 
•whereabouts  of  the  Hermit ;  but  no  clue  had  been 
found  as  the  result  of  his  inquiries. 

Unfortunately  for  his  case,  a  fresh  outrage  had  been 
perpetrated  in  the  burial  ground  of  Oakvale,  and  the 
popular  mind  was  at  once  inflamed  by  an  excitement 
more  intense  than  at  first.  The  grave  of  Colonel  Wes- 
ton  had  been  robbed  on  the  night  following  his  burial, 
and  under  most  aggravated  circumstances  —  the  coffin 
being  left  on  the  ground  and  the  grave  open.  A  wag- 
on was  tracked  from  the  entering  gate  to  Howard's 
office  ;  but  no  trace  of  the  body  could  be  found  about 
the  premises.  So  infuriated  were  the  people  at  this 
bold  perpetration  of  body  robbery,  that  they  tore 
Howard's  office  to  the  ground,  and  had  commenced 
on  his  house,  when  Judge  Skillott  interfered  with  a 
posse  of  police  and  put  a  stop  to  the  riot.  Howard 
felt  that  this  affair  sealed  his  doom,  and  awaited  the 
day  of  trial  with  the  calmness  of  despair. 

The  trial  was  brief,  for  Howard  had  no  testimony 
to  offer  against  that  brought  forward  by  the  prosecu- 
tion, and  the  case  went  to  the  jury  after  a  few  remarks 
18 


432  MINNIE   HERHON. 

by  the  gentlemanly  prosecuting  attorney ;  Howard 
doggedly  preserving  sullen  silence  through  the  whole 
trial.  The  jury,  after  retiring  a  short  half-hour,  re- 
turned with  a  verdict  of  guilty.  Howard's  face  was 
bloodless,  and  but  for  a  shriek  which  broke  the  op- 
pressive silence  in  the  court-room,  not  a  breath  was 
heard  as  the  verdict  was  pronounced  by  the  foreman. 
Howard  recognized  the  voice,  which  rang  like  a  des- 
pairing wail  in  the  hushed  room,  and  the  blood  rushed 
like  a  flame  upon  his  cheek  and  brow,  he  biting  his 
lip  through  with  a  convulsive  start.  Twas  then  that 
he  stood  up  and  asked  permission  to  say  a  few  words. 
The  Judge  was  sure  of  him,  now  that  the  verdict  waa 
declared,  and  very  blandly  granted  the  request. 
Howard  remarked  in  substance : 

"  Friends  —  no  —  I  will  not  say  that  after  the  treat- 
ment I  have  received  in  this  community  —  I  am 
aware  that  my  fate  is  fixed,  and  I  am  to  be  branded 
as  a  felon,  and  incarcerated  in  prison  among  felons 
But  for  one  whose  heart  has  well-nigh  given  way  un- 
der the  blow,  I  should  not  have  opened  my  mouth  on, 
this  occasion.  Before  God  and  you,  my  fellow-citizens 
and  neighbors,  I  am  as  innocent  of  this  crime  which 
is  charged  upon  me  as  the  most  innocent  among  you. 
I  find  myself  bound  and  powerless  in  the  toils  of  as 
base  a  plot  as  ever  ruined  an  innocent  man.  My 
name  has  been  covered  with  infamy,  my  wife  treated 
with  neglect  and  scorn,  and  my  property  laid  waste 
by  an  infuriated  mob.  And,  as  if  to  make  the  blow 
Btill  more  crushing,  another  crime,  still  more  aggia- 


A   GROUPING   OF   SCENES.  433 

rated  than  the  first,  has  been  charged  against  me, 
and  traced  to  my  door. 

"  I  did  not  rob  Gerald  Brayton's  grave.  I  have  sat- 
isfactory evidence  that  he  was  poisoned  in  one  of  the 
taverns  of  this  village.  He  was  hurried  to  the  grave 
on  purpose  to  conceal  the  fact  of  his  being  poisoned ; 
but  becoming  alarmed,  the  murderers  [fixing  his  eye 
boldly  upon  the  Judge]  dug  up  the  body.  They  were 
caught  in  the  act,  and  frightened  from  their  prey. 
Myself  and  another  individual  saw  it  all ;  and  after 
they  fled  from  the  body,  it  was  taken  to  my  premises, 
(where  it  was  found  by  your  committee,)  and  the  stom- 
ach taken  out  and  the  contents  subjected  to  a  chem- 
ical analysis.  Your  committee  failed  in  finding  the 
stomach  ;  and  not  until  the  real  perpetrators  of  this 
double  crime  are  before  you  on  trial,  will  the  proof  it 
furnishes  of  a  violent  death  be  brought  to  light. 
There  was  one  who  knows  more  of  this  matter  than  I 
do,  and  to  whom  I  have  looked  for  a  solution  of  all 
this  difficulty.  His  absence  is  unaccountable  to  me. 

"But  I  will  not  detain  you.  I  see  by  your  counte- 
nances that  my  words  find  no  lodgment  in  your  minds. 
So  be  it.  I  go  to  prison  ;  but  surely,  a  just  God,  who 
knows  my  innocence,  will  yet  bring  the  guilty  to 
punishment.  Those  who  stole  the  body  of  Gerald 
Brayton  are  now  in  this  court-room,  but  not  under 
sentence.  The  main  actor,  and  I  believe,  one  who 
first  poisoned  and  then  planned  the  robbery  of  the 
body,  is  now  on  the  bench,  and  is  to  sentence  one 
who  is  innocent,  for  the  crime  he  committed  !  " 


434:  MINNIE   HEEMON. 

There  was  intense  excitement  in  the  audience  as 
Howard  uttered  these  words,  with  his  eye  turned  full 
and  steadily  upon  Judge  Skillott.  Save  a  slight  pallor 
around  the  mouth,  the  countenance  of  that  personage 
wore  a  pitying  sneer,  plainly  saying  he  forgave  the 
prisoner  this  malignant  attempt  to  avert  odium  from 
himself  by  making  a  charge  against  the  bench. 

The  audience  hushed  as  Skillott  slowly  arose  to  sen- 
tence the  prisoner.  The  remarks  of  the  Judge  wero 
cunningly  made  up  of  pity  and  forgiveness  for  one 
who  blamed  so  unjustly.  It  had  been  a  sad  and  un- 
pleasant duty  to  try  one  of  his  own  friends  and  neigh- 
bors, and  it  only  remained  for  him  to  meet  the  most 
painful  duty  of  all,  in  sentencing  the  prisoner  to  the 
state  prison  for  the  term  of  five  years  and  six  months. 

Mrs.  Howard  was  taken  from  the  court-room  to  her 
desolate  home,  moaning  and  weeping  with  delirium, 
calling  plaintively  upon  her  husband's  name,  and  im- 
ploring help  to  save  him.  There  was  a  quick,  impul- 
sive reaction  in  many  a  mind,  as  people  looked  upon 
her  situation,  and  in  their  sympathies  for  her  they 
forgot  the  harsh  words  they  had  spoken  of  the  Doctor. 

As  Mrs.  Howard  could  not  visit  the  jail,  Howard 
was  taken  to  his  dwelling  to  see  her.  It  was  a  scene 
which,  were  we  able,  we  could  wish  to  describe.  The 
moaning  maniac  appeared  to  recognize  the  voice,  and 
welcomed  him  with  smiles  and  tears.  She  would  lis- 
ten as  Howard  stooped  where  she  knelt,  and  between 
each  lingering  kiss  upon  her  hot  brow  whispered 
u  poor  Mary." 


A  GROUPING   OF   SCENES.  435 

Aye,  poor  Mary!  The  husband  and  wife  were 
gently  parted  ;  and  he,  with  a  look  of  agony  such  as 
can  never  be  described,  stood  upon  the  threshold  and 
looked  upon  the  silent  room,  wept  his  choking  "God 
bless  you !  "  upon  the  sunny  locks  of  his  child,  and 
reeled  away.  There  were  no  rude  sounds  as  the  pris- 
oner passed  through  the  streets  to  the  prison,  that  in- 
stitution having  just  been  completed  in  Oakvale. 
Howard  turned  at  the  corner  and  looked  towards  .his 
home  again. 

—  The  heavy  mass  of  iron  crashed  back  to  its  place, 
falling  coldly  into  the  heart,  and  the  prisoner  was  en- 
tombed. Then  only  was  it  that  people  remembered 
the  goodness  of  the  ever-frank  and  manly  physician. 
And  as  fresh  outrages  occurred  in  the  burial  ground, 
more  than  one  who  had  followed  Howard  so  bitterly 
began  to  question  whether  a  great  wrong  had  not 
been  done  to  an  innocent  man. 

•  ••••••••• 

As  the  talk  about  the  trial  and  conviction  of  How- 
ard died  away,  the  approaching  trial  of  Walter  Bray- 
ton  assumed  its  place  in  the  public  mind. 

Calm,  pale,  and  with  a  manly  port  worthy  of  Wal- 
ter in  his  best  days,  he  sat  in  the  prisoner's  box.  Hia 
flesh  had  wasted,  and  his  color  had  faded  during  his 
confinement,  but  his  eye  was  full,  and  boldly  searched 
the  countenances'  of  those  around  him.  The  room 
was  densely  crowded,  for  the  Attorney-General  had 
been  engaged  for  the  prosecution  ;  and  as  it  became 
known  that  Walter  would  defend  himself  in  person, 


4:36  MINNIE  HEEMON. 

the  people  counted  on  a  trial  of  great  interest.  To 
the  usual  question,  he  firmly  answered  "Not  guilty," 
and  looked  every  one  of  the  jurors  steadily  in  the  eye 
as  they  came  before  him. 

The  triai  proceeded.  The  proof  was  all  circum- 
stantial, yet  bearing  hard  against  the  prisoner.  Ju.d 
Lane  swore  directly  to  having  seen  Brayton  with  Nye 
late  in  the  evening  of  the  murder,  in  the  vicinity  of 
Bray  ton's  office.  Brayton  subjected  the  fellow  to  a 
searching  cross-examination ;  but  his  story  was  brief 
and  doggedly  repeated  every  time.  It  was  shown  in 
proof  that  the  body  of  the  drover  was  found  concealed 
in  the  prisoner's  office,  with  the  throat  cut,  and  a  wal- 
let known  to  be  the  drover's  in  his  (Brayton's)  over- 
coat pocket.  There  were  marks  of  a  scuffle,  and  of 
blood  upon  the  floor.  Another  witness  testified  that 
he  had  heard  the  deceased  asking  legal  advice  of  the 
prisoner,  about  certain  difficulties  with  a  farmer  of 
whom  he  had  purchased  cattle.  The  pocket-book  of 
the  deceased  too,  was  found  in  the  office. 

*Brayton  offered  but  one  witness  —  Halton  —  who 
testified  that  the  prisoner  was  with  him  from  before 
dark  until  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  engaged  oil 
business  of  the  Division,  and  when  that  was  finished, 
he  retired  tc  bed  as  usual,  the  prisoner  boarding  at 
his  house 

The  arguments  were  brief,  though  unusually  elo- 
quent and  able.  "Walter's  defence  was  worthy  of  his 
fame  as  an  advocate  and  an  orator.  He  commented 
upon  the  evidence,  accounting  for  the  circumstances 


A  GROUPING   OF  SCENES.  437 

upon  no  other  ground  than  as  a  worse  than  devilish 
conspiracy  to  blacken  the  name  and  take  the  life  of 
an  innocent  man. 

"As  God  is  my  judge,  gentlemen,  I  am  as  ignorant 
as  yourselves  of  the  manner  in  which  the  body  of  the 
deceased  came  in  my  office.  It  is  true  I  was  retained 
by  Mr.  Nye  as  counsel  in  a  suit,  but  farther  than 
that,  I  never  passed  a  word  with  him.  I  was  not 
in  his  company  on  the  night  ol  his  death,  nor  in 
the  neighborhood  of  my  office.  It  does  not  look  rea- 
sonable that  I  should  commit  so  horrible  a  crime  in 
my  own  office,  and  leave  the  records  to  be  found 
against  me. 

"  But  I  will  not  detain  you,  gentlemen,  though  life 
is  sweet,  and  an  innocent  man  might  be  indulged  in 
addressing  those  in  whose  hands  his  fate  is  placed.  I 
have  been  guilty  of  much  ;  but  there  is  no  stain  of 
blood  upon  this  hand.  It  would  be  sweet  to  live  and 
redeem  the  errors  of  the  past,  but  there  are  few  to  re- 
gret me.  I  have  no  kindred  on  earth,  and  should  you 
condemn  me,  gentlemen,  I  can  meet  God  with  a  C9n- 
science  clear  of  this  crime  charged  against  me.  What- 
ever your  verdict  may  be,  I  know  not ;  but  if  against 
me,  I  shall  meet  my  fate  with  a  lighter  heart  than  will 
those  who  have  conspired  to  rob  me  of  the  only  boon 
left  me  of  a  bitter  wreck.  In  behalf  of  such  as  may 
believe  me  unjustly  charged,  I  again,  before  this  im- 
mense audience  and  my  God,  most  solemnly  affirm 
my  innocence  of  the  crime  for  which  I  am  on  trial. 
A.n  ignominious  death  may  be  mine,  for  it  were  vain 


4:38  MINNIE   HERMON. 

to  deny  that  the  evidence  is  strongly  against  me  ;  but 
the  right  will  ultimately  triumph,  and  the  dread  stig- 
oia  be  removed  from  the  name  of  Walter  Brayton." 

The  next  morning,  after  the  cause  went  to  the  jury, 
the  prisoner  was  brought  into  court  and  the  verdict 
declared.  It  is  ever  painful  to  await  the  voice  of  a 
foreman  when  the  life  of  a  fellow-being  hangs  upon 
his  words.  The  stillness  which  falls  upon  the  multi- 
tude is  painful. 

"  Guilty,  but  recommended  to  mercy,"  was  the 
slow  answer  of  the  foreman.  There  was  a  low  rush 
of  voices,  and  again  the  stillness.  To  the  usual  inter- 
rogatory, Brayton  replied  that  he  had  nothing  to  say. 
When  called  upon  by  the  Judge,  he  stood  up  almost 
proudly,  and  listened  to  the  sentence.  Skillott  affect- 
ed great  feeling  in  pronouncing  the  sentence,  but 
shunned  the  calm  and  piercing  eye  of  the  prisoner. 
Walter  was  sentenced  to  be  hung  by  the  neck  until 
he  was  dead. 

The  bearing  of  the  prisoner  had  been  so  noble  — 
so  modest,  yet  bold  and  manly  — that  many  who  be- 
lieved him  guilty,  could  not  but  admire  the  man,  and 
pity  his  fate.  The  people  dispersed  and  went  thought- 
fully to  their  homes. 

Not  until  in  his  cell  and  alone,  did  Walter  begin 
to  realize  the  result  of  his  trial.  'Twas  there  that  the 
bright  dreams  he  had  woven  since  his  reform  came 
back  to  mock  him.  lie  did  not  give  way  to  grief, 
but  his  spirit  chafed  against  his  prison  bars,  and  strove 
to  grapple  with  the  unseen  hand  which  had  wrought 


A   GROUPING   OF   SCENES).  439 

such  wrong.  He  was  bound  in  the  dark,  and  now  lay 
Helpless,  sentenced  to  an  ignominious  death,  and  with- 
out friends  to  save  him  from  the  fate.  Gaston,  the 
jailer,  was  kind,  and  Halton  and  his  companions  de- 
serted him  not ;  but  those  with  whom  he  had  associa- 
ted in  party  conflicts  left  him  alone.  Elder  Snyder 
called  upon  him  once,  and  coldly  talked  to  him  as  to  a 
guilty  murderer,  and  urged  him  to  confess  his  crime 
as  the  only  atonement  he  could  make.  Walter  indig- 
nantly repelled  his  advice,  and  gave  him  to  under- 
stand that  he  should  not  damn  his  soul  with  a  lie.  The 
elder  drew  a  long  sigh,  and  then  turned  haughtily 
away. 

About  this  time  an  itinerating  Methodist  revivalist 
came  to  Oakvale  and  commenced  a  series  of  meet- 
ings, which  rapidly  kindled  a  high  state  of  religious 
feeling  throughout  the  community.  Crowds  flocked 
to  hear  the  new  comer  —  the  rich  and  the  abandoned 
weeping  over  the  deep  and  melting  pathos  of  his  ap- 
peals. His  style  was  not  the  denunciatory,  save  when 
assailing  wrong  ;  but  to  men,  he  plead  as  a  brother 
would  plead.  He  visited  the  sick  and  comforted  the 
afflicted,  wept  with  those  who  wept,  was  mild  and 
winning  to  the  young,  and  for  the  erring  he  ever  had 
a  kind  and  forgiving  word.  His  manner  was  humble 
and  subdued,  though  at  times  he  would  rouse  like  a 
storm,  his  eyes  flashing  like  the  lightning  under  his 
cloudy  brow.  His  appearance  and  manner  were  pa- 
triarchal ;  his  white  locks  and  beard  flowing  uncut, 
his  neat  but  plain  apparel,  his  eye  of  mingled  sadness 


440  MINNIE   IIERMON. 

and  smiles,  bis  voice  of  singular  sweetness  and  powerj 
and  his  easy  gestures,  combined  to  render  tbe  man 
irresistible  as  a  preacher.  His  sermons  were  not  all 
made  up  of  the  terrible  imagery  of  infernal  torment ; 
but  of  love  and  hope,  and  eternal  bliss  in  a  better 
land  —  of  a  Saviour  weeping  over  Jerusalem,  and 
over  the  grave  of  Lazarus  —  of  his  meekness  and 
deeds  of  mercy  to  the  poor,  the  needy  and  the  afflict- 
ed, —  of  his  struggles  in  the  garden  —  of  his  bloody 
death  and  prayer  of  forgiveness  for  his  enemies  — all 
these  features  in  the  Redeemer's  character,  -were  pre- 
sented in  a  spirit  which  found  a  lodgment  in  the  sto- 
niest heart.  His  prayers  burned  with  the  same  in- 
spired eloquence,  and  as  he  bowed  his  venerable  form 
to  the  floor,  and  lifted  it  again,  with  his  cheeks  wet 
with  tears,  it  seemed  as  if  his  great  heart  throbbed 
under  the  very  throne  of  his  Master  in  Heaven.  None 
knew  the  man,  or  whence  he  came. 

The  revivalist  had  not  been  in  Oakvale  a  day  before 
he  learned  the  history  of  the  last  few  years,  and  it 
was  whispered  that  he  had  been  seen  wandering  in 
the  old  church-yard  on  the  clear  moonlight  evenings. 
On  the  night  of  his  arrival  he  visited  the  jail  where 
Brayton  was  confined,  and  was  promptly  admitted  to 
see  the  prisoner. 

The  sun  had  set,  but  the  crimson  glow  in  the  west 
was  reflected  in  the  cell  where  Walter  sat,  watching 

'  O 

through  the  high-grated  window  the  receding  day- 
light. The  prisoner  turned  as  the  door  creaked  on  its 
binges,  and  the  revivalist  stood  before  him.  , 


A   GROUPING   OF   SCENES. 

"  Have  I  the  happiness  of  seeing  Walter  Bray  ton  ?  *' 
he  asked,  in  a  tone  of  great  sweetness. 

"  Who  is  it  that  is  happy  to  see  that  individual  in 
a  dungeon  and  in  chains,  may  I  ask  ?  "  said  Walter, 
with  bitterness. 

"A  friend.  Glad  to  see  him,  but  not  to  find  him 
thus,"  replied  the  revivalist  with  sadness,  as  he  ad- 
vanced and  took  the  prisoner's  hand  firmly  in  his 
own.  There  was  a  magnetism  in  the  grasp  and  in  the 
watery  eye  which  met  his  own,  and  the  prisoner  felt 
that  the  stranger  was  a  friend. 

"  I  am  a  poor,  humble  Methodist  preacher,  just  in 
the  place,  and  hastened  to  visit  those  in  prison.  I 
hope  I  am  not  unwelcome  ?  " 

Walter  did  not  resist  the  influence  of  the  man's 
tone  and  manner,  for  he  felt  drawn  towards  him,  and 
conversed  with  him  as  he  never  had  conversed  with 
but  one  before.  Ere  he  was  aware,  he  had  fully  and 
frankly  rehearsed  the  history  of  the  last  few  years  — 
his  attachment  to  Minnie  Herinon  and  their  rupture ; 
his  trial  and  the  result. 

"And  you  are  innocent?" 

"As  the  angels  in  Heaven,  of  the  crime  for  which 
I  am  condemned." 

"  I  believe  you  ;  and  if  I  can  do  anything  to  unravel 
this  dark  plot,  rest  assured  it  shall  be  done.  But  of 
one  thing  let  me  assure  you  :  you  wrong  Minnie  Her- 
mon.  I  have  had  occasion  to  know  something  of  that 
woman,  and  a  truer,  nobler  creature  never  honored 


442  MESnOE   HERMON. 


her  sex.  You  will  find  plotting  there,  as  well  as  in 
other  matters." 

A  new  light  broke  upon  Walter's  mind,  and  his 
spirit  was  lighter  for  a  long  time  after  the  revivalist 
had  left  the  prisoner. 

An  hour  passed  away,  and  the  cell  door  again 
swung  back  upon  its  hinges,  the  lamp  in  the  jailer's 
hand  revealing  a  female  figure  deeply  muffled.  There 
was  a  hesitancy  in  her  movements,  but  as  Gaston  put 
the  lamp  upon  the  rude  table,  she  advanced  to  where 
the  prisoner  yet  sat,  and  stood  before  him.  He  no- 
ticed that  she  trembled,  her  features  yet  carefully 
concealed  from  him.  Slowly  turning  towards  the 
door,  as  if  to  satisfy  herself  that  the  jailer  had  de- 
parted, she  lifted  the  hood  and  vail  from  her  head 
and  face,  and  dropped  on  her  knees  before  the  pris- 
oner. 

"  Minnie  Hermon  1  " 

"  Walter  Brayton  1  " 

"And  you  do  not  believe  me  guilty  of  this  dark 
crime,  Minnie,  and  forgive  me  that  I  have  so  deeply 
injured  you?  " 

"  I  know  you  are  not  guilty.  If  you  were,  I  could 
forgive  you  a  thousand  times  I  " 

"  But  may  I  ask  why  that  emphasis  on  the  word 
1  know'?" 

"  Oh,  God  !  how  horrible  !  —  and  the  oath,  —  the 
oath/"  and  she  shuddered,  and  covered  her  iace, 


A   GROUPING   OF   SCENES.  443 

"  What  do  you  mean  —  what  oath  ?  I  cannot  un- . 
derstand  you." 

"  Do  you  believe,"  she  asked,  looking  wildly  around 
and  not  heeding  his  questions,  "  that  we  are  bound 
to  keep  an  oath  when  extorted  by  - —  by  violence  — 
by  a  knife  at  the  " 

"  Mr.  Lane  wishes  to  ask  Mr.  Brayton  one  ques- 
tion," said  the  jailer,  as  he  came  to  the  cell  door. 
Minnie  sprang  to  her  feet  as  if  the  voice  had  been 
an  adder's  hiss,  and  rushed  to  the  door,  beseeching 
Gaston  in  frantic  whispers  to  let  her  go. 

"  That  Lane  must  not  see  me  here,  or  he  is  lost !  " 
exclaimed  she. 

Lane  made  some  trivial  inquiry  and  immediately 
left.  It  was  long  before  Walter  found  rest,  so  swiftly 
did  new  and  strange  thoughts  rush  across  his  mind. 

— That  oath  !    What  could  that  mean  ? 


CHAPTER    XXXIII. 

A  STAB  m   THE   EAST THE   PLAGUE   STAYED. 

"  LOST  !  forever  lost !  "  sighed  a  man  in  tattered 
garments,  and  his  face  bloated  with  rum,  as  he  pulled 
his  broken  hat  over  his  eyes  and  turned  sadly  away, 
and  passed  down  the  steps  of  the  Capitol. 

"God  forgive  them  !  but  there  is  no  hope  for  the 
widow  now !  "  ejaculated  an  emaciated  woman  in  tat- 
tered garb,  as  with  quivering  lip  she  drew  her  thread- 
bare blanket  closely  around  her  shoulders,  and  disap- 
peared in  the  crowd.  Her  only  child  was  in  jail  for 
drunkenness,  while  she  had  crept  in  to  witness  the 
scene  below.  The  last  hope  had  been  crushed  out 
from  her  heart,  as  she  heard,  clear  and  distinct  in  the 
stillness,  "  The  bill  is  lost !  " 

u  My  children  at  home !  We  must  starve  and 
freeze  before  summer  comes  again,"  whispered  a  wife 
and  mother  in  accents  of  despair,  as  she  stood  gazing 
from  the  gallery,  her  thin  arms  folded,  and  a  heavy 
eya  watery  with  tears  she  could  not  keep  back.  A 
pale,  delicate-looking  girl,  with  sharp,  pinched  fea- 
tures, dress  torn  at  the  bottom,  and  her  legs  bare 
and  red  from  the  cold,  stood  clinging  to  the  mother's 
dress  and  watching  the  scene  with  a  vacant  stare. 


A   STAB   IN    THE   EAST.  445 

The  crowd  were  pouring  out  of  the  chamber  as  the 
wretched  looking  creature  aroused  from  her  reverie, 
and  dragged  the  child  away  by  the  hand.  None 
knew  how  dark  was  the  shadow  which  that  hour 
gloomed  in  the  pauper's  heart,  and  hung  over  the 
hearth  of  her  cellar  home.  How  could  she  wrestle 
longer  with  the  plague  which  had  scourged  her  ? 

"  And  father  must  die  a  drunkard,  Mary,"  said  a 
boy  of  twelve  years,  he  and  his  sister  turning  and  go- 
ing out  arm  in  arm.  The  two  were  motherless ;  and 
since  she  had  taken  their  hands  in  her  cold  palm  and 
commended  them  to  God,  they  had  not  known  a  kind 
word  at  home.  They  had  heard  that  drunkenness  was 
to  be  stopped  that  day,  and  had  mingled  with  the 
throng  and  found  a  place  in  the  Capitol.  God  pity 
the  legislator  who  that  day  said  "  Yes,"  to  the  busi- 
ness which  has  robbed  the  innocents  of  their  mother 
and  plunged  them  into  beggary. 

"  O  that  it  had  passed,"  came  in  an  almost  inaudi- 
ble whisper,  from  a  beautiful  young  female,  her  fair 
form  buried  in  costly  furs,  and  a  ring  of  great  bril- 
liancy glancing  upon  her  slender  finger.  Her  cheek 
was  fair,  but  there  was  a  canker  at  the  core,  and  there 
were  stains  from  the  heavy  lid  where  bitter  drops  had 
stood.  She  was  a  child  of  wealth  and  fashion,  and  a 
bride ;  but  she  had  found  a  dark  stream  gliding  be- 
neath the  idol  of  her  heart.  The  belle  and  heiress 
went  forth  with  a  heart  as  sad  as  the  saddest,  for  she 
too  had  entered  the  Capitol  to  see  the  plague  stayed. 

"  Would  that  my  boy  were  dead,  for  I  cannot  save 


4:46  MINNIE   IIEKMON. 

him  now  !  "  said  a  wealthy  and  distinguished  citizen 
with  tremulous  voice  and  compressed  lip,  looking 
down  upon  those  to  whom  he  had  looked  for  help, 
and  nervously  fingering  his  gold-headed  cane.  He 
spoke  of  an  only  son  who  had  plunged  deeply  into 
dissipation,  and  but  for  his  family  connection,  would 
have  been  sent  to  prison  for  forgery.  The  old  man 
had  wealth,  but  dared  not  look  into  the  future,  for 
he  feared  the  worst  to  his  reckless  and  drunken  boy. 

"  Traitors  —  cursed  traitors  I "  muttered  a  rumseller, 
glaring  upon  those  who  had  belied  their  profession 
as  Christians,  and  their  duties  as  parents  and  citizens. 
The  man's  heart  had  not  been  all  calloused  in  a  bad 
business.  His  better  nature  revolted  at  the  traffic, 
and  he  had  eagerly  hoped  that  the  whole  system 
would  have  been  swept  from  the  land. 

"Well,  Mayor,  this  is  glorious,  ain't  it?     We're 

good  for  another  year,  G d  d n  'em !     Let's 

go  over  to  Congress  Hall  and  take  something,"  ex- 
ultingly  exclaimed  a  dealer,  as  he  slapped  an  old 
distiller  familiarly  on  the  shoulder,  and  then  linking 
their  arms  together,  they  passed  out  and  turned  to  tho 
left. 

"  Well,"  said  one  of  a  knot  of  men  standing  back 
of  the  desks,  "  we  are  beaten  here,  but  we  will  carry 
it  up  to  the  tribunal  of  the  people.  Many  of  these 
men  who  have  been  thus  recreant  to  humanity  and 
right,  will  come  not  again  to  the  Capitol.  Hereafter 
we  will  send  up  our  petitions  through  the  ballot  box." 

"  Aye,  aye,  that  we  will,"  was  the  response  from 


A  STAB  IN   THE  EAST.  447 

stern  men,  as  groups  lingered  about  and  discussed  the 
great  measure  which  had  been  watched  with  so  much 
interest  by  the  people  of  a  great  State. 

As  the  news  spread  from  the  Capitol,  there  went 
sadness  to  thousands  of  hearts.  Three  hundred  thou- 
sand men,  women  and  children,  had  petitioned  against 
the  plague,  but  to  see  their  appeal  answered  with  de- 
liberate insult.  The  popular  storm  had  swept  around 
the  Capitol.  The  heart  of  the  commonwealth  had 
beat  up  against  its  pillars.  Humanity,  crushed  and 
bleeding,  had  dragged  her  form  to  the  porch,  and 
plead  with  the  eloquence  of  ten  thousand  bruised 
and  bleeding  sufferers,  but  to  be  pierced  anew  by 
legislative  Iscariots,  amid  the  jeers  and  laughter  of 
the  emissaries  of  an  accursed  traffic. 

After  all  other  measures  had  failed,  a  new  one  had 
been  brought  out  by  the  hand  of  a  good  Providence. 
A  star  had  arisen  in  the  east.  A  sovereign  State  had 
flung  out  a  new  banner,  and  given  a  new  battle  cry 
to  the  retrograding  hosts  of  the  reform.  At  one  stroke 
the  traffic  had  been  annihilated  in  that  State.  The 
news  flashed  through  the  Union,  and  everywhere  kin- 
dled enthusiasm  and  hope.  The  heart  of  a  Christian 
people  throbbed  responsive  to  the  shout  from  Maine, 
and  to  the  peal  of  one  common  war-cry,  rallied  in 
solid  phalanx.  "  Pass  this  law,"  said  a  drunkard  in 
Oakvale,  "  and  I  may  be  saved.  Now  I  cannot  come 
to  mill  or  to  church  without  getting  drunk.  Give  ua 
this  law,  and  I  can  die  a  sober  man,  and,  I  hope,  go 
to  Heaven.  Without  it  I  am  lost.''  And  so  thou- 


448  MINNIE   HEBMON. 

sands  of  drunkards  turned  their  eyes  to  the  new  light 
in  the  east,  as  to  a  brazen  serpent  which  should  heal 
them.  Nothing  else  could.  Even  the  eloquent  Gault 
had  been  tempted  and  crushed  for  a  time,  while  thou- 
sands of  stars  of  lesser  ray  had  set  in  impenetrable 
gloom,  unnoticed.  The  measure  had  been  tried  in 
New- York,  and  had  failed  ;  and  the  storm  was  already 
gathering  in  blackness,  to  burst  again,  and  sweep  down 
upon  the  Capitol. 

Firm  for  God  and  the  right,  the  people  went  to  the 
ballot  boxes  throughout  the  land,  and  put  up  their  pe- 
titions. The  issue  was  there  tried,  and  the  right  tri- 
umphed !  Men  worked  for  their  families,  country  and 
the  right,  instead  of  party,  and  voted  for  legislators 
whom  they  could  petition  for  a  prohibitory  law  with- 
out a  blush.  The  recreancy  of  the  former  legislature 
had  vibrated  to  every  part  of  the  State,  and  had  been 
answered  by  a  stern  and  unmistakable  response. 

Dense  masses  were  darkening  the  streets  in  the  vi- 
cinity of  the  Capitol,  and  their  heavy  tread  was  music 
in  the  ears  of  the  despairing.  There  was  a  moral 
sublimity  in  this  gathering  of  the  people  as  they  came 
from  their  homes  and  business  avocations  to  witness 
the  result  of  their  November  strife.  The  white-haired 
sire  mingled  with  the  vigorous  middle-aged,  and  the 
enthusiastic  youth.  Women  and  neatly-dressed  chil- 
dren were  wending  their  way  up  the  hill.  Banners 
were  waving,  the  music  swelled  up  from  the  bands, 
and  a  voice  like  the  low  murmur  of  many  waters 


A   STAR   IN   THE  EAST.  449 

came  up  from  the  masses.  A  long  procession,  made 
up  of  citizen  soldiers  in  the  great  moral  conflict,  and 
deserters  from  all  political  parties,  beat  the  ground 
to  the  music  of  the  bands.  One  vast,  throbbing  mass 
—  a  living  tide  of  American  citizens  and  freemen, 
calmly  but  sternly,  and  with  steady  steps,  filed  around 
the  corners,  and  swept  in  unbroken  column  through 
the  streets,  and  emerged  into  State  street  and  rolled 
up  towards  the  capitol  buildings,  one  common  purpose 
throbbing  to  the  music  from  end  to  end.  At  the  Capi- 
tol the  wave  swept  to  the  left,  swaying  onward  and 
onward  until  the  vast  architectural  pile  was  hedged 
with  steady  ranks,  and  the  head  of  the  column  dashed 
against  its  kindred  wave,  and  then  rolled  grandly  up 
the  Capitol  steps. 

The  scene  within  the  Capitol  was  one  for  a  lifetime. 
There  was  grandeur  there  ;  for  the  choice  spirits  of  a 
great  State  had  gathered  to  witness  the  deliberations 
of  their  servants,  and  to  present  their  petitions  in  per- 
son. A  vast  and  unbroken  sea  of  heads  appeared 
everywhere,  and  without  came  up  the  murmur  of  the 
voices  of  those  who  could  find  no  entrance.  Wealth 
and  fashion  had  already  secured  a  position,  and  thickly 
sprinkled  throughout  the  mass  were  the  sad-looking 
and  the  poorly  clad  —  mothers,  wives  and  children, 
who  had  again  assembled  to  see  whether  they  were 
to  be  shielded  from  their  woes.  The  legislators  looked 
thoughtfully  upon  the  array,  save  now  and  then  a  red- 
faced,  brawling  demagogue,  who  tried  his  pot-house 


4:50  MINNIE   HERMON. 

wit  or  coarse  slang  upon  the  people,  who  mirxded  not 
his  bloated  and  insolent  features. 

Permission  had  been  granted  several  of  the  cham- 
pions of  the  reform  to  occupy  the  floor  of  the  cham- 
ber in  advocacy  of  a  prohibitory  measure.  John 
Gault,  once  a  gutter  drunkard,  slowly  lifted  his  slen- 
der form,  and  in  low,  but  'distinct  and  silvery  tones, 
addressed  the  representatives  of  the  people.  What  a 
trophy  had  been  wrenched  from  the  destroyer  when 
that  man  was  saved  !  "With  tones  of  wondrous  magic 
and  depth,  his  words  rolled  out  and  reached  every 
heart  in  that  immense  audience.  He  kindled  as  he 
progressed,  his  words  glowing  and  burning  with  the 
true  eloquence  of  nature.  Then  was  witnessed  the 
power  of  one  of  nature's  orators.  He  swayed  the  au- 
dience at  will.  They  smiled,  or  wept,  or  frowned  in 
stern  indignation.  His  scenes  passed  before  them 
like  fearful  realities,  and  many  a  cheek  paled  as  he 
described  the  effects  of  intemperance  upon  the  drunk- 
ard and  his  home.  Shudders  at  times  crept  over  the 
strongest  frames,  and  eyes  unused  to  weeping  flood- 
ed at  a  touch  of  his  pathos.  He  plead  for  the  drunk- 
ards of  the  land  with  all  the  heart-fervor  of  one  who 
had  felt  the  scourge.  Anon  he  poured  down  the  most 
withering  invective  upon  the  traffic,  towering  and 
swaying  as  the  storm  howled  and  the  lightning  leaped 
from  his  quivering  finger,  and  the  large  drops  stand- 
ing out  upon  his  brow.  Such  was  John  Gault,  and 
as  he  closed  with  an  appeal  which  has  never  been  sur- 


A   STAR  IN   THE   EAST.  4:51 

passed,  each  auditor  feared  to  stir,  so  deep  had  been 
the  spell  of  the  master. 

And  there  was  Halton,  too  — the  grey-headed,  true 
and  iron-hearted  reformer.  His  warm  and  rugged 
eloquence,  though  less  brilliant  than  that  of  his  broth- 
er reformer,  had  that  sledge-hammer  earnestness  and 
strength  which  told  deeply  for  the  right. 

A  senator  then  came  forward  and  addressed  the 
people.  In  that  tall,  noble-appearing  man,  we  recog- 
nized our  friend  from  the  southern  tier,  introduced  to 
the  reader  in  the  commencement  of  our  history,  Mr. 
Fenton.  We  awaited  eagerly  his  words,  for  he  was  the 
champion  of  the  prohibitionists  in  the  Senate. 

He  was  a  strong  man,  and  full  of  fire.  His  blows 
crushed  like  bolts,  as  with  resistless  logic  and  rare 
eloquence  he  hailed  them  upon  the  traffic.  His  full, 
dark  eye  kindled,  while  now  and  then  he  drew  him- 
self up  to  his  full  height,  and  with  his  thin  lip  curling 
with  scorn,  he  swooped  down  upon  the  positions  of 
the  opposition. 

"  But  we  are  told,"  said  he,  "  that  this  measure  is 
not  demanded  by  the  people — that  it  will  ruin  the 
temperance  cause  by  reaction.  How  long  since  rum- 
sellers,  distillers,  rum-treating  demagogues  and  legis- 
lators of  easy  virtue,  who  were  elected  by  the  rum 
interest,  have  been  the  exclusive  friends  of  temper- 
ance 2  From  the  earliest  period  of  our  reform,  as  I 
very  well  know,  these  classes  have  found  fault  with 
all  the  measures  adopted  for  the  extinction  of  intem- 
perance, and  bitterly  opposed  them.  And  yet  they 


452  *   MINNIE  HEEMON. 

now  presume  to  dictate  what  course  shall  be  pursned  ! 
This  measure  is  needed.  The  people  demand  it. 
It  is  in  vain  to  hope  to  remove  the  evil  by  regulation. 
The  present  law  is  an  admission  of  the  right  to  legis- 
late, and  the  power  which  brought  this  wrong  into 
legal  being,  has  a  right  to  remove  it.  The  history 
of  the  reform  shows  that  it  is  in  vain  to  roll  back  tho 
evil  while  it  has  its  fountain  in  the  legislature. 
Drunkards  are  reformed  and  restored  to  their  fami- 
lies but  to  be  tempted  and  at  last  destroyed.  "We 
chain  them  down  to  the  rock  of  appetite,  and  then 
let  loose  a  swarm  of  vultures  to  pluck  their  vitals. 
You  may  as  well  expect  to  legalize  the  circulation  of 
the  plague  and  expect  no  one  to  die  with  it,  as  to  le- 
galize the  rum-traffic  and  expect  none  to  become 
drunkards.  No  moral  barrier  can  save  the  inebriate, 
his  family  and  home  from  the  consequences  of  a 
wrong  which  is  set  in  operation  by  law. 

"  But  this  is  a  moral  question.  So  it  is,  and  a  legiti- 
mate question  for  legislation.  It  concerns  the  dearest 
interests  of  society  —  the  happiness,  good  order,  mor- 
ality and  prosperity  of  a  great  people.  Moral  ques- 
tions of  far  inferior  moment  have  been  legislated  upon, 
and  none  have  complained.  Many  of  the  evils  that 
are  suppressed  by  strong  penal  enactments,  in  three- 
fourths  of  the  cases,  spring  directly  from  the  rum- 
traffic.  The  existing  law  is  an  answer  to  this  objec- 
tion. The  traffic  stands  branded  as  an  evil  —  one  of 
such  magnitude  that  laws  have  been  enacted  to  guard 
society  from  its  full  influence. 


A   STAR  IN  THE   EAST.  453 

""We  hear  much  of  liberty  and  natural  rights. 
The  worst  outlaws  in  society  would  joy,  sir,  to  hear 
the  doctrines  advanced  on  this  floor.     I  am  yet  to 
learn   that  liberty   is  unbridled    license,  or  natural 
rights  a  code  for  civilized  and  Christian  people,  &» 
here  proclaimed.     Governments   are    formed    by    a 
surrender  of  certain  natural  rights,  and  the  weak  are 
protected  in  that  compact  as  well  as  the  strong.     The 
strongest  arm  does  not  then  rule,  nor  the  pistol  and 
knife  remain   the   umpires  between  man  and  man. 
Rumsellers  are  not  the  only  members  of  that  com- 
pact, and  they  would  not  dare  to  have  society  plunged 
into  chaos,  and  each  member  run  his  chance.     Were 
this  so,  God  knows  that  the  wrongs  of  many  a  heart 
and  home  would  have  been  most  signally  avenged. 
Dissolve  society,  and  woe  betide  the  rumsellers.     A 
man  may  dig  a  pit,  but  not  to  entrap  a  neighbor.     Ha 
may  let  an  unruly  ox  run,  if  there  are  none  to  injure. 
He  may  build  his  mill-dam,  slaughter-house  or  soap- 
factory,  if  they  do  not  injure  the  public.     He  may 
keep  powder,  if  lives  are  not  endangered  ;  or  publish 
obscene  books,  if  there   are  none  to  read  them ;  or 
breed  rattlesnakes  and  mad-dogs,  if  there  are  none 
to  be  bitten  ;  he  may  do  all  this  by  natural  right, 
but  the  moment  he  becomes  a  member  of  the  social 
compact,  his  course  would  injure  others ;    and  one 
man's  interests  are  never  to  be  pushed  to  the  destruc- 
tion of  those  of  his  neighbors.     If  he  goes  into  socie- 
ty, he  is  bound  to  regard  the  welfare  and  rights  of 
the  whole ;  if  he  will  not,  let  him  assume  the  posi- 


454:  MINNIE   HERMOX. 

tion  of  an  outlaw,  and  depend  upon  the  exercise  of 
his  natural  rights  for  the  protection  of  himself  and 
property.  Why,  sir,  this  law  is  no  new  thing.  It 
is  as  old  as  the  creation  of  man.  Its  principles  are 
laid  in  the  sublime  fabric  of  Divine  government. 
They  were  graven  upon  the  tables  of  stone — they  shine 
forth  in  revelation — they  throb  in  the  great  heart  of 
our  common  humanity  —  they  are  recognized  and 
built  upon  in  every  civilized  government  in  the 
world.  Hunt  through  the  statutes  of  Christendom 
to-day,  and  you  will  find  the  principles  of  the  Maine 
Law  in  all  its  length  and  breadth,  and  height  and 
depth.  It  is  the  great  principle  of  the  general  wel- 
fare—  the  law  of  God,  of  love,  justice  and  truth,  ev- 
erywhere brought  out  in  Divine  government.  Pri- 
vate interest  must  always  give  way  to  the  common 
good.  The  pit  must  be  filled  up  or  guarded  ;  the  un- 
ruly ox  must  be  killed  or  pounded  ;  his  mill-dam 
must  be  drained ;  his  slaughter-house  and  soap-factory 
pulled  down,  his  powder  and  obscene  books  destroyed, 
his  dogs  and  snakes  muzzled  or  killed.  In  fine,  sir, 
that  is  a  most  damnable,  anti-republican  principle 
which  demands  that  the  good  of  a  whole  -community 
shall  be  sacrificed  that  individuals  may  have  unbri 
died  license  in  their  selfishness,  and  prosper  in  wick- 
edness. It  is  a  principle  which  would  scatter  plague, 
and  cover  the  earth  with  rotting  dead,  that  doctors, 
sextons  and  undertakers  might  grow  rich.  It  is  a 
principle  which  has  filled  our  homes  with  desolation, 
ruined  the  living,  and  damned  the  dead. 


A   STAK   IN   THE   EAST.  455 

"  But  we  are  told  that  we  cannot  legislate  men 
into  morality  —  can  coax,  but  not  coerce.  Ever  since 
God's  will  has  been  revealed  to  man,  penal  laws  have 
existed.  One  would  suppose,  to  hear  the  opposition 
declaim,  that  this  earth  had  suddenly  become  a  Par- 
adise, and  its  inhabitants  angels.  They  do  not  stop 
to  tell  us  that  all  men  are  not  susceptible  of  moral  in- 
fluences—  that  but  for  penal  laws,  men  would  yet 
steal  their  fellows,  rob  the  traveler,  plunder  graves, 
burn  and  butcher.  "With  all  our  safeguards,  educa- 
ted by  intemperance  and  its  kindred  vices,  crimes  of 
every  dye  continue  to  blacken  our  criminal  records. 
Every  penal  enactment  is  a  coercive  measure.  The 
mind  revolts  from  their  repeal,  or  the  regulation,  of 
these  crimes — farming  out  for  silver,  the  right  to  a  few 
of  plundering  property  and  destroying  life.  We  co- 
erce every  enemy  of  society.  If  caught  violating  any 
of  its  ordinances,  he  is  punished.  The  provisions  of 
this  bill,  Sir,  are  no  more  arbitrary  than  our  present 
statutes.  The  rights  of  the  citizen,  the  sanctity  of  his 
property,  liberty,  or  dwelling,  are  not  more  jeopard- 
ized than  now.  If  stolen  goods  are  believed  to  be 
secreted  in  a  dwelling,  it  is  searched  from  cellar  to 
garret,  and  no  complaint  made.  The  counterfeiters' 
or  gamblers'  den  is  searched,  their  tools  destroyed, 
and  they  punished.  The  one  but  gambles  for  money 
with  an  equal  chance ;  the  dealer  gambles  for  the 
money  of  his  victim,  with  appetite  to  aid  him  in  the 
play.  The  counterfeiter  turns  out  a  bogus  dollar : 

the  dealer  counterfeits  the  image  of  God,  and  adulte- 
19 


456  MINNIE   HERMON. 

rates  immortal  coin.  Is  a  spurious  half-dollar  more 
dangerous  to  society  than  an  imbruted  and  beggared 
citizen  ?  And  yet  you  imprison  the  one  who  corrupts 
your  coin,  and  give  the  other  the  right  to  corrupt  and 
blight  every  pure  current  in  the  hearts  of  your  peo- 
ple. The  dealer  would  resort  to  the  coercion  of  legal 
process,  were  a  five-dollar  counterfeit  bill  to  be  put 
off'  upon  him,  and  yet  he  claims  the  natural  liberty  of 
BO  marring  the  moral  beauty  of  his  own  kind,  and  of 
blighting  their  manhood  that  a  demon  stands  in  the 
place  of  a  kind  and  high-minded  citizen !  Who  has 
ever  complained  of  the  exercise  of  law  for  the  pro- 
tection of  the  health  of  community  ?  Are  not  many 
kinds  of  food  interdicted,  the  diseased  citizen  forcibly 
seized  and  thrust  into  the  pest-house,  the  vessel  com- 
pelled to  lie  in  quarantine,  or  its  cargo  destroyed  and 
even  the  vessel  itself  sunk,  if  the  public  health  de- 
mands the  measure  ?  Does  not  our  government,  in 
time  of  war,  quarter  troops  in  our  dwellings,  appro- 
priate stores  and  teams,  and  compel  the  citizen  to  as- 
sist? Such  measures  are  arbitrary  ;  but  when  the 
public  interest  demands  them,  the  patriot  will  not 
complain. 

"Again.  We  are  told  that  the  law  cannot  be  en- 
forced without  bloodshed  and  violence  —  the  present 
law  is  sufficient.  I  believe,  Sir,  the  American  people 
are  preeminently  law-abiding.  They  are  familiar 
with  the  democratic  doctrine  of  the  majority.  When- 
ever public  sentiment  assumes  power  to  force  from 
reluctant  legislators  a  law  for  the  protection  of  the 


A   STAK   IN   THE   EAST.  457 

people  from  a  terrible  evil,  is  it  not  believed  that  they 
will  see  that  it  is  enforced  ?  The  law  has  been  en- 
forced. It  is  no  longer  an  experiment.  It  has  been 
tried,  and  its  success  has  become  a  matter  of  history. 
"Without  violence  or  bloodshed,  the  people  of  a  neigh- 
boring State  crushed  the  evil  at  a  blow !  And  were 
a  thousand  lives  to  be  sacrificed  in  carrying  into  effect 
a  law  like  this,  their  blood  would  be  but  the  drop  in 
the  ocean,  when  compared  with  that  which  ha.s  for 
ages  smoked  upon  Christian  altars.  The  cry  of  mur- 
der comes  on  every  wind  ;  crime  stalks  upon  the  heels 
of  crime  at  midday  ;  from  its  Aceldemas  red-handed 
butchery  runs  with  its  smoking  blade  to  the  commis- 
sion of  fresh  atrocities,  until  our  criminal  records  are 
crimson  with  hot  gore,  and  the  scaffold  casts  its  shad- 
ow in  every  part  of  the  land.  Our  dungeons  swarm 
with  murderers,  and  thence  the  slayer's  feet  are  con- 
tinually beating  their  way  to  the  gibbet,  until  the  de- 
tails of  murder  and  execution  are  as  familiar  to  our 
people  as  the  newspapers  which  come  to  their  dwell- 
ings. And  those  who  manufacture  all  these  butchers 
are  going  to  resist,  to  the  knife,  the  enactment  which 
shuts  up  these  schools  of  crime  !  As  to  the  present 
law,  it  is  the  merest  humbug  that  ever  outraged  a 
Christian  people.  It  is  a  stupendous  farce,  as  also  an 
infamous  wrong.  It  is  a  compromise  between  good 
and  evil  —  with  iniquity  —  a  yoking  of  saint  and 
devil — a  compound  of  heaven  and  hell  —  an  infer- 
nal adulteration  which  lifts  up  and  legalizes  wrong, 
and  pulls  down  the  right  —  a  draping  of  the  three- 


4:58  MINNIE   HERMON. 

mouthed  dog  of  the  pit  in  the  habiliments  of  a  guard- 
ian  angel,  to  stand  and  smile  at  the  door-sills  of  the 
pits  on  earth.  The  principle  would  associate  the 
arch  fiend  with  Deity  on  the  throne  of  Heaven,  and 
mingle  the  wails  of  the  lost  with  the  praises  of  the 
redeemed.  It  would  unite  the  worlds  of  bliss  and  of 
woe,  and  place  angels  on  a  footing  with  devils.  Sir, 
does  God,  in  his  government,  recognize  such  a  prin- 
ciple ?  Do  his  laws  regulate  theft,  swearing,  perjury, 
murder,  &c.  ?  Do  his  retributions  slumber  when  so- 
called  respectable  men  trample  upon  his  laws  ?  Do 
his  penalties  fall  without  modification  upon  the  most 
abandoned,  while  sinners  of  "  good  moral  "  character 
enter  in  and  dwell  at  his  right  hand  ?  Does  he  strike 
hands  with  iniquity  ?  Can  those  who  have  wealth, 
and  power,  and  respectability,  transgress  his  com- 
mandments, and  go  unpunished  ?  Where,  in  any  civ 
ilized  government  now  existing  on  earth,  is  this  prin- 
ciple made  the  basis  of  legislation,  save  in  the  legali- 
zation of  the  ruin  traffic  ?  Supposing,  Sir,  that  the 
legislature  should  legalize  the  crimes  which  are  now 
punishable  with  imprisonment  and  death  for  the  pur- 
pose of  restraining  them  ?  That  they  should  empower . 
a  selection  of  good  moral  men  to  perpetrate  those 
crimes,  so  as  to  have  the  perpetration  legal,  moral, 
and  respectable  ?  That  men  should  be  selected  to  rob, 
to  steal,  to  gamble,  to  counterfeit,  to  commit  forgery, 
to  burn  buildings,  to  murder?  The  most  common 
intelligence  would  revolt  at  the  damning  wickedness; 
and  treat  such  legislators  as  madmen  or  knaves.  The 


A.  STAK   IN   THE    EAST.  4:59 

popular  breath  would  at  once  sweep  them  into  lasting 
infamy.  Yet  the  license  system  is  a  creature  of  legal 
enactment,  and  stands  before  the  world  this  day  as  the 
great  fountain-head  of  nearly  all  the  crimes  which 
endanger  the  peace  and  blacken  the  character  of  socie- 
ty. Men  are  selected  to  engage  in  this  traffic,  and  the 
government  sells  the  accursed  '  indulgence.'  If  but 
a  good  moral  character  is  endorsed  by  the  excise 
commissioners,  the  seller  becomes  a  state  officer  —  a 
legal  instrument  —  a  servant  of  the  people,  empow- 
ered to  nerve  the  villain's  arm  which  carries  the  torch 
or  lifts  the  knife,  to  burn  or  to  destroy.  He  scatters 
firebrands  and  death  throughout  the  land,  blights 
hopes  as  bright  as  bliss,  destroys  happiness  the  holiest 
and  purest,  and  sweeps  on  like  an  avenging  storm, 
until  all  that  is  pure  in  childhood,  noble  in  manhood, 
ar  venerable  in  old  age,  is  withered  and  crushed  to 
earth.  Life,  happiness,  and  hope  ;  virtue,  love  and 
truth,  are  alike  blasted  by  these  men,  selected  by  the 
State,  and  protected  by  its  laws.  And  all  this  to 
restrain  and  regulate  the  traffic!  The  policy  is 
wrong  in  motive,  impolitic  in  principle,  atrocious  in 
its  execution,  and  most  cruel  in  its  consequences.  It 
is  a  principle  so  damnable  in  its  conception  and  char- 
acter, and  so  sweeping  and  remorseless  in  its  destruc- 
tion of  human  happiness  and  life,  that  it  may  well 
crimson  the  cheek  of  an  American  freeman  with 
deepest  shame.  Regulation  and  restraint ! 

"  Sir,  in  the   days  when   indulgences  were   sold, 
when  every  kind  of  ^vice  was  licensed  and  regulated, 


4:60  MINNIE   HERMON. 

this  abomination  would  not  have  been  out  of  place, 
though  more  thoroughly  infamous  than  any  of  its  kin- 
dred iniquities.  Mark  these  inconsistencies  —  the 
inefficiency  of  the  law  in  securing  the  object  designed, 
and  its  demoralizing  influence  upon  public  sentiment, 
and  its  legal  waste  of  happiness  and  life  —  and  blush 
that  so  foul  a  stain  has  a  resting-place  upon  the  stat- 
ute books  of  our  people.  We  go  upon  the  principle 
of  choosing  a  good  man  to  engage  in  a  devilish  busi- 
ness. We  give  respectability  to  a  business  denounced 
by  God  ;  a  business  which  crushes  the  rights  of  hu- 
manity and  destroys  the  sanctity  of  religion,  its  every 
footstep  smoking  with  the  hot  blood  of  the  hearts  it 
has  crushed.  Our  commissioners  would  appear  as 
honorable,  and  far  more  humane,  if  they  were  to  select 
men  of  good  moral  character  to  steal,  burn,  and  kill, 
and  do  society  far  less  injury. 

"  There  is  a  regulation,  in  the  matter  of  selling  to 
drunkards.  Indeed,  the  license  law  is  professedly  to 
restrain  intemperance.  Need  I  point  you  to  the  re- 
sults ?  Whence  come  this  vast  army  of  drunkards, 
who  throng  every  avenue  of  life,  and  with  ceaseless 
tread  move  on  to  the  grave  ?  Where  are  the  foun- 
tains which  feed  this  stream  of  wrecked  humanity? 
Where  is  the  cause  ?  Day  and  night,  from  year  to 
year,  the  unbroken  columns  move  on.  The  grave 
swallows  forty  thousand  in  twelve  months.  The  sod 
has  hardly  closed  upon  a  fearful  sacrifice,  before  its 
cold  arms  are  thrown  up  to  embrace  as  many  more. 
And  so  this  host  moves  on.  Recruits  are  ever  enlist- 


A   STAR  m   THE  EAST.  461 

ing.  The  youth  in  the  saloon  takes  the  drunkard's 
place.  And  so  back  until  the  legions  are  wrapt  in  the 
sunlight  of  youth,  the  diorama  of  life  is  moving.  And 
so  it  has  moved  for  ages  —  that  measured  and  gloomy 
tramp  taking  hold  upon  dishonored  death.  Rumsell- 
ers  never  wish  men  to  die  drunkards,  and,  under  a 
wise  law,  never  sell  to  drunkards.  And  so  we  '  regu- 
late '  whole  armies  of  human  beings  into  premature 
graves  every  year  that  rolls  around.  When  —  when, 
Sir,  will  intemperance  be  so  regulated  by  our  present 
system  that  our  green  land  shall  not  become  one  vast 
burial-ground  for  drunkards  ? 

"  We  are  told  that  the  sale  is  justifiable,  because 
the  license  money  goes  into  the  treasury  !  This  poli- 
cy furnishes  us  with  another  strong  reason  why  the 
whole  system  should  be  removed.  It  is  one  of  the 
strongest  arguments  against  legalizing  the  traffic.  The 
principle  involved  is  one  of  unadulterated  wickedness. 
Government  thus  assumes  the  attitude  of  a  speculator 
in  the  lives  and  happiness  of  its  subjects.  With  one 
arm  it  thrusts  its  victims  upon  the  begrimmed  altars, 
and  with  the  other  grasps  eagerly  for  the  price  of  the 
sacrifice.  Here  it  stands  upon  its  pedestal  of  the 
heart-broken,  the  dying,  and  the  dead,  a  remorseless 
Moloch  enthroned,  and  smiling  upon  the  enginery  of 
death  which,  for  gain,  it  has  set  in  motion.  There  is 
something  hideous,  something  revolting  in  the  aspect. 
Like  an  unnatural  parent,  it  destroys  its  own  for  a 
price.  Those  whom  it  should  guard  and  protect  are 
thrust  beneath  the  ponderous  wheels  which  roll  in 


462  MINNIE   HERMON. 

ruin.  Men,  women,  and  children  ;  youth  in  the  buoy- 
ancy of  its  hopes,  and  old  age  in  its  locks  of  gray,  are 
alike  offered  up.  Society  thus  immolates  all  its  most 
cherished  interests  for  pay,  and  secures  to  itself  the 
glorious  privilege  of  bearing  ten-fold  burdens,  build- 
ing poor-houses  and  prisons,  and  digging  graves.  It 
sells  the  lives  of  its  own  citizens.  Christian  men  sit 
down  deliberately  and  say  to  those  who  wish  to  sell 
rum,  in  so  many  words,  '  How  many  pieces  of  silver 
will  you  give  us  if  we  will  betray  these  women  and 
children  into  your  hands  ? '  All  this  is  cool  and  de- 
liberately cruel.  Life  and  all  its  bright  hopes  are 
thus  bartered  away,  while  an  oath  sits  heavy  on  the 
soul.  Do  not  your  cheeks  tinge  with  shame  as  you 
take  in  the  length  and  breadth  of  this  policy  ?  Even 
in  a  pecuniary  point  of  view  it  is  ruinous.  For  every 
dollar  thus  received,  hundreds  are  paid  out.  It  is  a 
fearful  and  perpetual  drain  upon  the  substance  of  the 
people.  Evils  are  sown  broadcast,  and  we  reap  a 
burdening  harvest  of  woe,  want,  crime  and  death. 
All  that  we  cherish  in  this  world  and  hope  for  in  the 
next,  is  put  in  the  scale  with  dollars  and  cents.  For 
five  or  ten  dollars,  a  man  is  delegated  to  scatter  a 
moral  plague  throughout  the  land,  and  fatten  upon 
the  substance  of  the  people.  Let  our  commissioners 
look  at  the  silver  they  have  received.  It  is  the  tribute 
of  blood.  It  has  been  wrung  from  the  crushed  hearts 
of  the  ruined,  and  is  clammy  with  drops  of  blood.  It 
is  hot  with  the  scalding  tears  of  widowhood  and  or- 
phanage. As  it  falls  into  the  public  coffers,  its  dul] 


A   STAR  IN   THE   EAST.  463 

sound  echoes  the  wail  of  the  famished  and  defense- 
less. Ho !  for  the  price  of  hloocl !  Hoard  it  well ; 
for  an  ever-living  and  watchful  God  has  put  its  cost 
on  record.  Over  against  it,  to  be  tested  at  the  tri- 
bunal of  the  Judgment,  stands  the  record  of  the  un- 
utterable evils  of  the  rum-traffic.  And  as  witnesses 
against  it,  will  stand  the  myriads  whom  the  policy 
destroyed  on  earth. 

"  You  talk  of  property  —  this  evil  wars  upon  all 
property.  It  paralyzes  industry,  thus  working  deep 
and  irreparable  injury  to  individual  and  national 
prosperity.  Its  cost  to  the  American  people  is  hardly 
to  be  comprehended  in  all  its  extent.  The  direct  cost 
is  enough  to  arouse  the  patriot  against  it ;  indirectly, 
its  corroding  effects  leave  their  blighting  mildew 
wherever  it  exists.'  Our  poor-expenses  tower  until 
the  people  groan  under  their  weight.  The  hard  earn- 
ings of  the  tax-payers  of  the  country  are  annually  as- 
sessed to  meet  the  cost  of  the  sale  of  rum.  The  fam- 
ily is  beggared,  and  the  people  support  them.  The 
drunkard  ruins  his  health,  breaks  a  limb,  or  sustains 
some  injury  from  his  drinking  habits,  and  becomes  a 
public  charge.  A  citizen  wastes  his  substance  in  the 
dram-shop,  and  from  one  gradation  of  vice  to  another, 
at  last  becomes  a  criminal.  If  he  counterfeits,  com- 
mits forgery  or  burglary,  the  people  try  him  and 
foot  the  bills.  If,  inflamed  by  the  people's  rum,  he 
thrusts  the  torch  into  the  city  at  night,  thousands  are 
licked  up  by  the  flames ;  and  if  the  incendiary  is 
caught,  he  is  imprisoned  or  hung,  and  the  forbearing 


464:  MINNIE   1IEKMON. 

people  foot  the  bills.  If,  in  a  drunken  broil,  he  takes 
the  life  of  a  fellow-being,  the  people  try  him,  hang 
him,  and  foot  the  Mil.  Thus  circles  round  the  great 
maelstrom.  From  the  bar-room  to  the  alms-house, 
prison  and  scaffold,  a  great  highway  has  been  cast 
up,  beaten  hard  by  continually  thronging  thousands. 
Every  day's  history  records  a  fresh  crime.  Our  pris- 
ons are  thronged.  The  executioner  is  busy  hanging 
up  the  effects  of  the  traffic.  The  blood-offering  of  one 
murder  ceases  not  to  smoke  upon  the  glutted  shrine, 
before  another  victim  is  prepared  from  the  bar-room. 
The  press  teems  with  the  sickening  details.  The  great 
fountain-head  of  crime  sweeps  on  with  increasing  vol- 
ume, and  red-handed  murder  stalks  forth  even  at 
noonday,  with  the  axe  and  the  knife  hot  with  gore. 
Lesser  crimes'  swarm  like  locusts,  all  combining  and 
swelling  an  amount  of  tax  which  is  drawn  from  the 
life-blood  of  the  people.  The  rum-traffic  costs  the 
American  people  more  than  three  hundred  millions 
of  dollars.  And  this  is  the  pecuniary  aspect,  merely. 
This  annual  drain  would  bind  our  land  in  one  unbro- 
ken net-work  of  railroads,  telegraphs  and  canals  ;  dot 
every  hill-side  with  school-houses  and  churches  ;  erect 
charitable  institutions  wherever  afflicted  humanity 
groans  under  misfortune,  and  make  the  blessings  of 
education  as  free  as  the  air  we  breathe.  Patriotism 
—  that  love  of  country,  its  institutions,  and  people, 
which  beats  warmly  and  truly  in  the  heart —  should 
awaken  our  strongest  opposition  to  a  cancer  which 
eats  so  fatally  upon  the  business  interests  of  the  laud 


A   STAK  IN   THE   EAST.  465 

we  live  in.  We  might  enlarge  upon  this  point,  but 
it  needs  it  not.  Trace  back  the  history  of  any  com- 
munity, and  you  will  be  astonished  at  the  amount  of 
its  waste.  Sift  your  tax-lists,  and  it  will  be  found  that 
the  cost  of  the  rum-traffic  is  one  of  the  most  grinding 
burdens  borne  by  the  American  people.  What  a  po- 
sition for  a  nation  of  freemen !  Sacrificing  the  prop- 
erty .and  health  of  its  citizens  for  the  pastime  of  sup- 
porting them  as  paupers !  Our  people  are  liberal  to 
a  few.  They  foster  vice  and  a  crime,  that  a  few  may 
reap  a  pecuniary  harvest.  They  make  paupers,  and 
build  alms-houses  to  keep  them  at  the  public  expense. 
They  manufacture  criminals  of  every  grade,  and  then 
furnish  officers  to  catch  them,  try  them,  and  punish 
them.  They  build  prisons,  and  annually  make  large 
appropriations  to  sustain  them — reservoirs  where 
they  sweep  in  the  criminals  they  have  made,  brand- 
ing their  own  offspring  with  infamy,  and  compelling 
them  to  toil  for  naught.  They  instigate  murder,  and 
are  at  the  expense  of  building  a  scaffold  to  hang  the 
guilty  instruments  of  their  creation.  In  fine,  they 
educate  an  army  of  children  for  all  that  is  wicked, 
and  then  punish  them  for  putting  their  teaching  into 
practice.  Were  we  a  rumseller,  we  should  look  with 
a  smile  of  contempt  upon  such  people.  They  would 
give  us  the  privilege  of  coining  money  out  of  the  de- 
struction of  man's  temporal  and  eternal  interests,  and 
then  kindly  support  all  the  paupers,  and  hang  all  the 
murderers  we  might  make,  Such  a  policy  in  an  in- 
dividual would  be  madness.  And  so  it  is  madness  m 


466  MINNIE   1IERMON. 

a  great  people.  It  is  a  heathenish  offering  up  of  theii 
own  vitals  to  the  rending  talons  of  the  monster  which 
is  enthroned  in  every  drain-shop  throughout  the  land. 
Sir,  we  honor  that  high-toned,  unbending  love  of  lib- 
erty and  justice  which  characterized  the  conduct  of 
our  revolutionary  fathers.  They  put  every  thing  at 
stake,  rather  than  bear  the  burdens  of  unjust  taxa- 
tion. War  became  to  them  one  of  the  most  imperi- 
ous of  human  obligations,  and  the  battle-field  '  the 
sublimest  theatre  of  patriotic  achievement  and  heroic 
martyrdom.'  They  left  their  plows  in  the  furrows, 
and  their  homes  to  the  protection  of  Heaven,  and 
grappled  boldly  with  England's  strength.  That  same 
spirit  would  to-day  make  every  true  patriot's  heart 
beat  high  with  indignation,  and  arouse  a  storm  which 
would  forever  destroy  one  of  the  most  grinding  op- 
pressions on  earth.  The  spirit  which  hurled  the  tea 
into  Boston  harbor,  would  seize  and  destroy  every 
barrel  of  rum  designed  for  the  injury  of  society. 

•"  The  gentlemen  on  the  other  side  have  spoken  elo- 
quently about  the  vast  amount  of  property  invested 
in  tjie  traffic.  It  is  an  unworthy  argument.  Were 
the  wealth  of  the  universe  of  God  staked  in  the  traffic, 
it  should  not  weigh  one  moment.  There  are  immor- 
tal interests  staked  in  human  hearts.  Mind  and  hap- 
piness —  virtue,  purity  and  peace,  are  worth  more 
than  all  the  wealth  of  the  material  universe.  The 
weal  of  men  here  and  hereafter,  cannot  be  put  into 
the  scale  with  dollars  and  cents.  The  crushed  and 
ruined  —  the  mother,  wife  or  child,  who  has  beeg 


A   STAR   IN   THE   EAST.  467 

scourged  and  robbed,  would  turn  with  withering  scorn 
from  the  cold  and  heartless  computation  of  her  wrongs, 
in  money.  The  structures  of  earth  pass  away,  but 
the  property  of  the  mind  ?s  indestructible,  and  lifts 
up  proudly  amid  the  '  wreck  of  matter,'  and  exists 
while  God  exists !  There  is  something  sad  in  wander- 
ing among  the  ruins  of  empires  where  nations  lie  en- 
tombed. More  sad  the  scene  of  a  mind  in  ruins. 

"  "We  weep  from  a  heavy  heart  as  we  see  the  gloom 
of  a  rayless  night  gathering  over  the  mind,  and  the 
structure  which  was  moulded  by  the  hand  of  God 
crumbling  into  ruins.  The  mind  is  property — prop- 
erty which  is  of  more  value  than  all  the  wealth  of  the 
material  universe.  And  here  is  where  we  find  one  of 
the  most  startling  effects  of  intemperance.  Here  is 
where  the  system  wars  upon  a  class  of  property  which 
cannot  be  computed  by  dollars  and  cents.  Here  are 
ruins,  thickly  strewn  up  and  down  the  land,  over 
which  the  patriot,  philanthropist  and  Christian  can 
weep  with  keenest  sorrow. 

"Sir,  had  I  a  constellation  of  worlds  like  this,  I 
would  resign  it  all,  if  every  star  were  a  diamond  of 
priceless  worth,  if  the  slight  sacrifice  would  buy  the 
loved  and  the  lost  from  death  and  the  grave. 

"  Sir,  our  wives  and  children  demand  this  measure. 
Humanity  pleads  this  day.  You  protect  the  dead  in 
their  graves,  the  trees  in  our  parks,  the  animals  in  om 
yards,  the  deer  in  our  forests,  and  the  fish  in  our  wa- 
ters ;  and  why  not,  by  all  that  is  brave,  manly  and 
good,  protect  our  homes,  our  wives  and  children? 


468  MINNIE   HERMON. 

Tell  me,  Sir,  why  not?  Look  at  the  course  of  this 
evil  which  we  ask  you,  in  behalf  of  suffering  humani- 
ty, to  prohibit. 

"  It  spares  neither  age  nor  sex.  Its  trophies  are 
more  to  be  dreaded  than  those  at  the  red  man's 
belt,  snatched  from  the  throbbing  brow  of  innocence. 
The  system  is  cruel,  mercilessly  cruel.  It  wars  upon 
the  defenceless — upon  women  and  children.  Its  most 
desolating  strife  is  at  the  fireside.  We  execrate  it  for 
its  cowardice,  as  well  as  its  injustice  and  cruelty. 
Those  who  are  never  seen  abroad,  and  who  never 
lifted  a  hand  or  a  voice  against  the  seller,  are  crushed 
down  with  remorseless  coolness.  If  men  alone  were 
destroyed,  without  wringing  the  hearts  that  are  linked 
with  them,  it  would  not  seem  so  damnable.  But  why 
should  a  Christian  government  and  a  Christian  people 
war  upon  the  happiness  of  the  defenseless  inmates  of 
the  household  ?  Why  should  woe  and  want  be  car- 
ried into  our  homes?  Why  should  our  mothers,  and 
wives,  and  daughters  be  scourged  until  they  weep 
drops  of  blood  ?  Why  should  children  be  turned  out 
with  no  inheritance  but  orphanage  and  disgrace  ? 
Why  should  the  props  and  pride  of  old  hearts  be 
snatched  away  and  broken  ?  Why  —  in  God's  name 
tell  us  !  in  this  land  of  plenty,  where  our  barns  gush 
with  fatness,  where  our  fields  groan  under  the  har- 
vests which  roll  like  golden  oceans  to  the  kiss  of  the 
sunbeams,  and  where  an  ever-kind  Providence  has 
scattered  his  blessings  on  every  hand,  should  women 
and  children  go  hungry  for  bread  ?  Why  should  cur 


A  STAB  IN   THE   EAST.  469 

sons  be  turned  out  to  be  drawn  into  the  whirlpool  of 
crime,  and  our  daughters  to  forget  all  that's  womanly, 
and  sink  in  vice  for  their  daily  bread  ?  Is  this  Chris- 
tianlike  ?  Is  it  like  freemen  ?  Why  should  our  homes 
be  transformed  into  hells,  and  the  husband  and  father 
into  a  demon,  to  torture  and  kill  ?  Why  must  those 
whom  we  love  be  torn  with  hunger  and  grief,  that  a 
few  men  may  fatten  by  selling  rum  ? 

"  I  need  not,  Sir,  speak  to  this  body  of  the  danger 
to  the  purity  of  our  elective  franchise  from  the  rum- 
traffic  —  all  know  it.  The  traffic  is  a  foul,  corroding 
cancer  upon  this  dear-bought  boon  —  the  legacy  of 
revolutionary  hardship  and  death.  It  was  won  at  a 
fearful  cost.  It  is  an  anchor  which  shall  hold  in  the 
storm  —  a  bulwark  behind  which  a  people  can  gather 
and  hurl  back  destruction  upon  those  recreant  to  free- 
dom and  to  right.  But  it  is  prostituted  to  the  basest 
purposes,  and  trampled  in  the  dust.  It  is  wrenched 
from  its  honorable  and  legitimate  purpose,  and  upon 
a  tide  of  rum  and  corruption,  made  to  bear  bad  men 
into  stations  of  emolument  and  trust.  These  facts  are 
written  in  the  history  of  every  election  day  which  has 
transpired  since  rum  entered  the  field.  There  are 
those  who  will  recognize  a  more  than  '  fancy  sketch ' 
in  our  rapid  hints.  And  is  there  nothing  saddening, 
nothing  alarming,  in  this  wide-spread  corruption  of 
demagogism?  With  rum  yoked  in  unholy  alliance, 
it  stalks  through  the  land,  and  stands  in  its  huge  and 
damning  deformity  at  the  pools.  It  leans  over  the 


470  MINNIE   HERMON. 

ballot-box  with  a  leer  of  triumph.  It  comes  forth 
from  the  drunkeriesof  the  land,  reeking  with  all  that 
is  foul,  and  shouts  its  triumphs  in  the  very  citadel  of 
the  popular  will.  Thus  libertines,  gamblers  and 
drunkards,  slime  into  our  town,  county,  State  and  na- 
tional legislatures,  and  have  to  do  with  all  the  inter- 
ests of  the  society  in  which  we  live.  This  tide  must 
be  checked  and  rolled  back.  This  accursing  union 
must  be  broken  into  pieces.  The  lightning  of  a  peo- 
ple's will  must  fall  upon  this  demagogism,  and  crush 
it  to  earth,  or  our  freedom  will  be  but  a  name,  the 
elective  franchise  but  a  badge  of  servitude,  and  the 
pillars  of  our  free  institutions  will  roll  like  dust  before 
the  storm. 

"Yes,  as  God  is  our  judge,  were  there  no  other  rea- 
son, we  should  arouse  for  a  conflict  with  the  rum  in- 
terest for  the  evil  it  has  done  and  is  doing  to  the  purity, 
stability,  character  and  permanency  of  our  cherished 
political  institutions.  Here  is  enough  to  alarm.  And 
yet  a  large  class  of  the  American  people  slumber 
without  concern  over  this  crater,  which  is  charged 
with  violence  and  anarchy.  Were  we  to  point  to  the 
most  threatening  dangers  to  the  prosperity  of  these 
States  and  the  perpetuity  of  their  free  institutions,  we 
should  single  out  that  class  of  evils,  of  Protean  phase, 
which  breed  in  foul  luxuriance  in  the  rum-shops  of 
our  land. 

"  But  I  will  not  detain  this  body  too  long,  though 
I  believe  this  bill  to  be  one  of  the  most  important 


A  STAR   IN   THE   EAST.  471 

that  ever  claimed  the  attention  of  a  deliberative  body. 
The  world  is  watching  the  course  of  these  States  upon 
this  question.  Interests  as  lasting  as  eternity,  are  in- 
volved. The  homes  of  this  great  commonwealth  this 
day  contain  anxious  hearts,  and  prayers  are  going  up 
that  the  right  may  triumph.  By  our  love  of  virtue 
and  good  order,  of  domestic  happiness  and  peace  — 
home  and  its  circle  —  our  own  green  land,  and  God  ; 
by  every  sacred  and  hallowing  tie  which  binds  the 
good  man  to  his  hearth  'altars,  kindred,  country  and 
Heaven,  let  us  obey  the  people  and  our  own  conscien- 
ces, and  vote  for  this  bill ;  and  so  shall  the  whole  land 
be  filled  with  joy  and  thanksgiving,  the  fire  be  again 
kindled  on  the  desolate  hearth,  and  hope,  in  the  sor- 
rowing heart ;  men  shall  get  drunk  no  more  ;  peace, 
happiness  and  hope  shall  smile  again  in  the  dark  hab- 
itations ;  the  waste  places  shall  be  made  glad,  and 
the  wilderness  blossom  as  the  rose,  our  stricken  wives 
and  mothers  weep,  and  their  children  at  the  hearth 
clap  their  tiny  hands  for  joy !  " 

The  throng  slowly  dispersed,  but  as  the  sun  was  set- 
ting in  the  unclouded  west,  the  starry  sheet  above  the 
Capitol  rolled  out  more  proudly  than  was  wont,  and 
upon  the  wings  of  lightning  the  news  was  flashed  to 
the  north,  south,  east  and  west,  the  "  MAINE  LAW  BILL 
HAS  PASSED  !  " 

"  Too  late  !  "  said  our  old  widow  friend  of  the  pre- 
vious winter,  but  the  old  drunkard  was  there,  and  sat 


472  MINNIE   HERMOKT. 

down  upon  the  steps  of  the  Capitol,  and  wept  like  a 
child.  Throughout  the  State,  the  mother  hugged  her 
child  to  her  bosom  with  a  thrill  of  gladness,  and 
from  the  home  altars  of  a  Christian  people,  glad 
hearts  lifted  their  benisons  to  the  God  of  the  right. 
—  THE  PLAGUE  WAS  STAYED!" 


CHAPTEK    XXXIV. 

TWO   RESCUES. 

"  PRAISE  be  to  God  for  this  day.  It  will  live  with 
the  birth-day  of  our  country,  and  be  commemorated 
with  bonfires  and  illuminations,  and  by  the  prayers 
and  shouts  of  a  happy  people.  But  oh,  if  it  had  come 
long  years  ago,  what  anguish  might  have  been  spared. 
A  world  of  sorrow  and  crime  would  never  have  been 
written.  But  thy  will,  O  God,  be  done." 

We  recognized  our  friend,  the  revivalist,  in  the  gal- 
lery of  the  House,  as  the  Speaker  declared  the  result 
of  the  final  ballot,  bowing  his  white  head  reverently 
as  he  spoke,  and  for  some  minutes  hiding  his  face  in 
his  hands.  By  his  side  stood  a  tall,  attenuated  per- 
sonage in  singular  costume,  his  beard  uncut,  and  his 
thin  hair  falling  negligently  upon  his  shoulders.  His 
emaciated  countenance  was  pale,  but  the  dark,  deep, 
sunken  eye  glowed  with  steady  brilliancy.  He  had 
watched  the  debate  and  the  vote  with  the  keenest 
scrutiny,  his  lips  now  and  then  moving  nervously  as 
he  half  whispered  his  thoughts.  His  left  arm  hung 
nerveless  by  his  side  ;  and  in  his  right  hand  he  held 
a  long  staff. 

"  Yes,  and  it  will  be  done.     The  wicked  shall  be 


474  MINNIE   HEEMON. 

overtaken,  and  the  wrongs  of  the  innocent  avenged. 
The  destroying  angel  has  been  commissioned  to  go 
forth,  and  the  hosts  of  hell  shall  be  smitten  in  all  the 
land.  Woe !  woe !  for  the  day  has  come  !  In  the  might 
of  the  Lord  men  shall  go  forth,  and  the  wicked  shall 
be  found  in  their  secret  hiding  places,  and  the  dark 
beverage  of  hell  be  given  to  the  flames,  or  spilled 
upon  the  earth.  There's  joy  in  Heaven,  peace  on  the 
earth,  and  good  will  to  men,  for  the  day  of  the  Lord 
has  come.  The  chain  shall  be  struck  from  the  cap- 
tive and  the  prison-door  be  opened.  Hallelujah  to 
God,  for  to-day  the  monster  is  chained,  and  the  plague 
is  stayed."  So  vehemently  spoke  the  companion  of 
the  revivalist,  as  he  stood  by  the  side  of  his  more 
meek-appearing  companion,  bringing  his  heavy  staff 
almost  fiercely  down  upon  the  floor  at  every  sentence. 

"  Yes,  the  plague  is  stayed.  God  has  prospered 
the  right  this  day.  Now  to  our  business,  and  then  for 
Oakvale.  Sure  enough,  the  prison  door  shall  be 
opened." 

The  two  passed  out  of  the  chamber,  followed  by  a 
crowd  who  had  been  attracted  by  the  words  and 
manner  of  the  tallest  speaker.  They  were  seeking 
the  Governor's  mansion,  to  the  great  wonderment  of 
those  who  had  followed  them  into  the  street. 

The  reader  will  remember,  in  a  previous  chapter, 
the  interview  between  Minnie  Hermon  and  Walter 
Brayton,  which  was  interrupted  by  Lane.  The  latter 
individual  had  dogged  the  footsteps  of  Minnie  to  the 
jail,  and  under  pretence  of  doing  a  pressing  errand 


TWO   RESCUES.  4:75 

«,o  the  prisoner,  gained  admittance  to  the  hall  leading 
to  the  cells.  lie  had  stolen  noiselessly  to  the  door, 
and  had  caught  the  word  "  oath,"  as  it  fell  from  Min- 
nie's lips. 

Two  hours  from  that  time,  her  father  put  a  note 
into  her  hand,  purporting  to  be  from  a  sick  woman 
over  the  river,  and  urging  her  immediate  attendance. 
Minnie  knew  the  woman  and  her  situation,  and  im- 
mediately threw  on  her  cloak  and  started.  A  fine 
snow  was  falling  fast,  and  the  night  was  so  dark  that 
she  could  hardly  distinguish  the  outlines  of  the  moun- 
tains against  the  heavy  sky.  The  woman  she  was 
going  to  see  lived  in  the  outskirts  of  the  village,  on 
an  unfrequented  by-road  leading  up  into  the  moun- 
tain. As  she  turned  from  the  main  road  she  felt  the 
grasp  of  a  heavy  hand  upon  her  shoulder,  and  strong 
fingers  at  her  throat.  The  assault  had  been  so  sud- 
den that  she  had  no  opportunity  of  raising  an  alarm, 
and  in  a  moment  she  was  gagged  and  lifted  upon  a 
horse  behind  another  person,  and  borne  rapidly  away. 
Her  eyes  were  bandaged,  but  she  knew  that  her  course 
was  up  the  mountain.  She  could  hear  another  horse 
alongside,  and  therefore  judged  that  there  were  two 
persons  besides  herself  in  the  company.  She  heard 
the  roaring  of  the  falls,  and  notwithstanding  her  sit- 
uation, she  thought  of  the  circumstance  which  made 
her  acquainted  with  Brayton,  and  of  all  the  events 
which  had  so  rapidly  followed  that  acquaintance 
There  had  been  more  shadow  than  sunshine  across 
the  pathway. 


476  MINNIE   HEEMON. 

After  riding  a  long  time,  and  until  she  was  be- 
numbed with  cold,  a  halt  was  made.  The  party  had 
descended  the  mountain,  and  were  near  the  "  chasm," 
a  gorge  of  dark  and  lonely  character,  at  the  bottom 
of  which  a  stream  swept  fiercely  over  rocks  and  falls. 
The  horses  were  hitched,  and  Minnie  heard  the  step- 
ping of  two  persons,  as  they  went  back  a  short  dis- 
tance and  commenced  conversation  in  a  suppressed 
tone  of  voice.  Her  attention  was  painfully  excited, 
but  she  could  not  distinguish  the  subject  of  the  con- 
versation. 

There  seemed  to  be  a  difference  of  opinion  between 
the  two  individuals  in  relation  to  some  matter  con- 
cerning her,  and  as  the  dispute  waxed  warmer,  she 
caught  its  import ;  and  as  she.  recognized  the  voice 
of  Jud  Lane,  a  shuddering  heart-sickness  well-nigh 
robbed  her  of  her  senses.  Knowing  the  man,  as  she 
did,  the  unbroken  darkness  around,  and  a  wild,  bleak 
mountain  seldom  trodden,  between  her  and  any  hu- 
man habitation,  it  is  no  wonder  that  her  head  swam 
and  her  heart  grew  sick  with  fear  and  despair. 

"D n  it,  Jud!  I  wouldn't  do  it,  I  tell  you. 

They  will  miss  her  at  the  village,  and  hunt  the  whole 
country." 

"  How  long  is  it  since  you  became  so  tender-heart- 
ed ?  You  say  that  dead  cats  never  mew." 

"Well,  I  know,"  and  Minnie  recognized  the  speak- 
er as  Burt  Vanderwalt,  a  notorious  desperado,  "  but 
the  truth  is,  I  can't  say  I  like  this  women  business; 
men,  can  get  along  with." 


TWO  EESCUES.  47Y 

"  But  if  your  life  depended  upon  one's  gossiping 
tongue  —  what  then  ?  " 

"  Can't  say ;  but  devil  hang  me  —  if  I  want  to 
choke  one  of  'em  to  save  another  man's  neck,  any 
how." 

"  Not  if  that  would  save  you  from  state  prison  ?  " 
sneeringly  asked  Lane. 

"  Ho,  ho !  Jud  Lane,  think  you  can  frighten  a  Yan 
derwalt,  eh  ?  A  prison  better  than  a  deadfall  in  pub 
lie,  Jud  Lane  ?  " 

"  Pshaw  !  Burt,  I  didn't  mean  nothing,  for  you  and 
I  are  friends" 

"Ought  to  be,  I  guess,  and  without  my  tipping 
this  confounded  woman  into  the  '  chasm.'  " 

"But  what  can  we  .do,  Bnrt?" 

"You  needn't  say  we,  'cause  I  have  been  with  yon 
in  some  ugly  scrapes,  or  think  that  I'll  take  to  kill- 
ing women  'cause  I  love  rum.  If  this  was  my  job, 
I  should  say,  take  her  to  Syd's.  He'll  put  her  where 
all  h — 11  won't  find  her.  Folks  sent  there  never  re- 
turn again,  you  know," 

"  That's  a  fact ;  but  perhaps  it's  better  to  do  that. 
I  must  be  back,  though,  to-morrow ;  but  I'll  give  you 
ten  dollars  to  take  her  there  and  give  Sid  the  wink." 

"  "Wai,  guess  I'll  do  it !  Blasted  cold  night,  though. 
Shouldn't  wonder  if  she'd  freeze." 

"  So  much  the  better,  if  she  does." 

"  No,  not  for  me.  Min.  Hennon  never  did  me  any 
harm,  Lane,  and  I  cussedly  hate  to  have  anything  tc 
do  with  the  business  —  did  in  the  first  start." 


478  MIN&IE  HEKMON. 

"  "Well,  well,  no  matter ;  you  can  stop  at  the  Old 
Morgan  Clearing  and  put  up.  You  can  build  a  fire 
in  the  cabin  and  stop  awhile." 

"  Not  for  ten  dollars,  though,  Jud  Lane,  on  such  a 
night  as  this." 

"  How  much,  then  ?  " 

"  Why,  if  the  thing  is  any  object  to  you,  you  can 
make  it  twenty,  I  reckon." 

"  Make  it  twenty,  then,  seem'  it's  you,  and  now  go 
ahead.  Ride  fast,  and  keep  your  eye  out.  Good 
night." 

Lane  goaded  his  horse  into  a  gallop  as  he  turned 
his  head  towards  Oakvale,  and  Vanderwalt,  leading 
the  horse  Minnie  was  on  by  the  bridle,  pushed  on 
through  the  forest.  She  was  chilled  through  and 
through  with  severe  cold,  but  felt  relieved  at  the  ab- 
sence of  Lane. 

An  hour's  brisk  rid;ng  took  them  to  the  Morgan 
Clearing,  a  small  opening  on  the  mountain  side,  where 
a  deserted  cabin  alone  invited  the  chance  wanderer  or 
the  hunter.  Yanderwalt  lifted  Minnie  from  her  horse 
in  his  brawny  arms,  and  then  folding  his  own  bear- 
skin overcoat  around  her,  proceeded  to  strike  and  kin- 
dle a  fire.  It  was  only  after  a  good  deal  of  effort  and 
sundry  abrupt  expletives,  that  he  succeeded  in  kin- 
dling a  blaze.  Minnie  never  saw  a  more  cheerful 
blaze,  though  the  rude  tenement  was  both  empty  and 
cheerless,  and  the  snow  had  sifted  in  through  many 
a  wide  opening.  As  the  first  light  shone  directly  upon 
the  darkness,  she  looked  keenly  at  her  companion, 


TWO   RESCUES.  479 

anxious  to  read  his  countenance,  for  the  thought  of 
her  situation  in  the  forest  was  startling.  She  had 
often  seen  him  at  her  father's  tavern  ;  and  on  one  oc- 
casion, she  had  done  him  an  act  of  great  kindnesSj 
though  she  did  not  suppose  that  one  of  his  character 
would  remember  such  acts  with  gratitude.  As  the 
snow  was  pushed  away  and  the  heat  of  the  fire  dried 
the  ground,  he  urged  her  to  sit  nearer,  and  even  of- 
fered to  assist  her,  as  he  noticed  that  she  could  hardly 
move  her  benumbed  limbs.  For  a  long  time  she  suf- 
fered the  most  excruciating  pains  from  the  effects  of 
the  heat,  and  as  it  left  her  fingers  and  feet,  she  could 
hardly  keep  from  closing  her  eyes  ;  but  she  dared  not 
do  it.  Vanderwalt  noticed  her  weariness,  and  was  at 
a  loss  how  to  say  something  which  was  evidently  on 
his  mind. 

"  Not  much  chance  for  a  lady  like  you  to  sleep 
here,.  I  reckon,  Miss  Hermon,"  said  he,  with  an  em- 
barrassed air,  looking  towards  an  old  frame  of  poles, 
covered  with  dried  hemlock  boughs,  "  and  —  ahem — • 
I  'spect  we  oughtn't  to  stay  here  till  daybreak.  Pla- 
guy tough  night,  though,  for  a  woman  to  be  out. 
Darned  if  I  don't  wish  I'd  stayed  ter  hum." 

Minnie  had  made  no  answer,  though  there  was  a 
tone  of  respect,  of  honesty  in  the  man's  voice,  which 
gave  her  hope,  and  she  ventured  to  ask  him  why  she 
had  thus  been  decoyed  from  home,  and  brought  into 
the  mountains  in  such  a  night. 

"  I'm  s,orry  —  swow  I  be,  Miss  Hermon,  but  I  can't 

tell  that.     Jud — that  other  man,  knows  more  than  I 
20 


480  MLNNIE  HERMON. 

«lo  'bout  that  business,"  answered  Burt,  looking  for 
the  first  time  steadily  into  her  face.  '  But  if  I'd  a 
known  what  the  job  was,  I  wouldn't  a  come  for  him 
nor  no  other  man  —  swow  I  wouldn't,  Miss  Hermon." 

"  Take  me  back,  then,  to  Oakvale,  and  I  will  re- 
member the  kindness  as  long  as  I  live.  Take  me 
back  to-night!" 

"  No,"  thoughtfully  answered  Burt,  watching  with 
surprise  the  sudden  action  of  Minnie,  "  can't  do  that ; 
I  have  — have  bargained  to  take  you  somewhere  else, 
and  it  must  be  done,"  and  the  burly  ruffian  looked 
towards  the  doorway  with  evident  fear,  and  dropped 
his  voice  to  a  whisper. 

"  But  let  me  take  the  horse,  and  I  will  go  forward 
and  escape  you,"  she  plead  with  a  meaning  look. 

"  That  will  not  do,  either,"  he  muttered,  as  he  edged 
liis  way  nearer  the  door,  as  if  to  prevent  her  from 
such  a  rase.  Minnie  started  and  retreated  a  step  be- 
hind the  fire. 

"  Don't  never  fear  rne,  Miss  Hermon,  if  I  have  a 
hard  name.  You  did  me  a  favor  once,  and  I  never 
forget  such  things.  I  wouldn't  harm  a  hair  of  your 
head,  though  hadn't  it  a  been  for  me,  I  'spect  you 
wouldn't  a  been  here  now.  But  I  darsn't  go  back. 
You  shan't  be  harmed,  Miss,  while  Burt  Yanderwalt 
is  a  friend  to  you.  This  is  an  awful  n:ght,  and  I'll 
run  the  risk  of  staying  till  daybreak.  Too  bad,  I 
swow,  for  any  women  kind  to  be  out." 

Pleading  was  of  no  avail,  and  after  exhausting  all 
her  powers  of  persuasion,  Minnie  gave  up  the  attempt 


TWO   RESCUES.  481 

in  despair,  trusting  in  God  to  guard  her.  Burt 
stripped  the  bearskins  from  the  saddles,  and  with  his 
own  coat  made  the  old  bed  of  boughs  as  comfortable 
as  he  could,  and  insisted  that  she  should  lie  down 
close  by  the  fire,  and  not  "  worry,  for  things  might  all 
come  around  right  yet."  Pulling  a  bottle  from  his 
side  pocket,  he  offered  it  for  her  to  take  a  drink  from. 

Minnie  recoiled  from  the  tender  with  ill-concealed 
disgust.  Seeing  that  Burt  felt  hurt  at  such  a  recep- 
tion of  his  well-meant  offer,  she  explained,  that  it  had 
cursed  her  and  her's,  being  the  fruitful  cause  of  all 
her  troubles.  The  people  of  Oakvale  were  happy 
until  rum  came  among  them.  Even  talk  upon  tho 
temperance  question  passed  away  the  dismal  hours  ; 
and  Minnie  entered  into  the  subject  with  an  enthusi- 
asm that  bore  her  mind  away  from  the  circumstances 
that  surrounded  her.  As  she  detailed  the  effects  of 
rum  in  Oakvale,  Burt  listened  resoectfully,  then  with 
interest,  and  as  his  better  nature  came  once  more  up- 
permost, he  felt  a  warmth  in  his  eyes,  and  fell  to  kick- 
ing the  fire  to  hide  his  weakness,  as  he  believed  it  to 
be.  As  she  ceased  speaking,  after  supposing  him  an 
unwilling  or  angry  listener  from  the  violence  with 
which  he  kicked  the  fire,  the  notorious  tippler  sat  for 
a  long  time  in  thought,  with  his  bottle  in  his  hand 
and  its  contents  untasted. 

u  True  as  preachin',  every  cussed  word  the  gal  said," 
he  muttered  to  himself,  as  he  half-angrily  put  tiie  cork 
into  the  bottle,  and  replaced  it  in  his  pocket.  "  Ev- 
ery word  true  —  cuss'd  if  'taint.  If  'twaii't  for  some 


482  MINNIE   HEEMON. 

things — rum  again,  old  Bart!  "  and  lie  ground  Iii3 
teeth  in  thought.  "  If  'twan't  for  some  things,  I'd 
jine  the  temp'rance  concern,  and  quit  drinking.  Bet- 
ter done  it  years  ago,  Bart.  I'll  think  of  that.  Any 
how,  the  gall  shan't  be  harmed,  if  I  hang  for  it.  Jud 
Lane  may  go  to  the  devil." 

The  revivalist  suddenly  disappeared  from  Oakvale. 
His  absence  and  that  of  Minnie  Ilermon,  left  a  blank 
in  the  enjoyments  of  Brayton  which  caused  his  mind 
to  relapse  into  despondency  and  gloom.  With  haughty 
mien  and  a  heart  full  of  bitter  feelings,  he  gave  him- 
self up  to  his  fate.  He  knew  not  that  a  single  friend 
was  making  an  effort  to  fathom  the  circumstances 
which  rendered  his  case  so  hopeless. 

On  the  afternoon  of  a  late  winter  day,  a  white- 
headed  man  was  Been  wending  his  way  over  one  of 
the  bleak  mountains  of  Pennsylvania,  his  long  beard 
covered  with  frost,  and  his  footsteps  weary  from  his 
toilsome  clay's  journey.  He  was  well  known  in  that 
vicinity,  and  was  cordially  welcomed  to  the  homes  of 
most  of  the  honest-hearted  yeomanry.  For  years, 
without  money  and  without  price,  he  had  traveled 
among  them  and  preached  the  gospel,  his  mildness, 
unassuming  benevolence  and  humble  manners,  win- 
ning the  esteem  of  the  more  thoughtless.  The  reader 
will  recognize  the  revivalist  in  the  aged  traveler,  and 
learn  that  some  object  of  more  than  usual  interest  has 
induced  him  to  make  the  toilsome  winter  journey, 
from  Oukvale. 


TWO   RESCUES.  4.83 

"Are  you  acquainted  with  one  Sid  Lane,  who  lives 
in  these  parts  ?  "  asked  the  revivalist  of  his  friends 
where  he  stopped  for  the  night. 

"  Yes,  believe  there  is  such  a  man  back  a  few  miles 
over  the  mountain ;  but  few  know  anything  of  the 
man,  nor  do  they  seem  to  want  to.  He  shuns  every- 
body." 

"  Does  he  live  in  the  log  house  by  the  ledge  ? '' 

"  Yes,  believe  he  does." 

"  Don't  know,  I  suppose,  whether  he  has  any  con- 
nection living  ?  " 

"  Do  not ;  and  it  would  be  as  much  as  a  man's 
head  was  worth  to  find  out.  He's  a  very  bad  man. 
People  say  he  came  from  York  State  for  no  good." 

"  Did  he  come  from  Oakvale  ?  ' 

"  Guess  that  was  the  place,  or  some  such  name.. 
Pretty  hard  set  there,  I  guess,  if.  the  stories  are  all 
true."  The  revivalist  colored  and  changed  the  con- 
versation. 

"  Hasn't  there  been  a  report  in  circulation  that  a 
wild  man  has  been  seen  in  a  cavern  up  the  ledge, 
and  been  heard  to  scream  —  a  tall  man  with  a  long 
beard  ? " 

"  There  has  ;  and  between  you  and  me,  [lowering 
his  voice  to  a  whisper,]  I  guess  it's  true  ;  for  one  of 
my  brothers  was  along  at  the  time.  They  had  been 
hunting,  and  just  at  night  cut  across  the  gorge,  you 
see,  to  get  home  before  dark.  Upon  the  mountain 
they  heard  a  scream  like,  just  as  though  'twas  some- 
thing human.  They  thought  'twas  a  panther,  and  so 


484:  MINNIE  HERMON. 

concluded  they  would  keep  a  lookout.  And  then 
they  heard  singing,  and  a  jabbering  like  some  one 
crazy.  They  crept  among  the  rocks,  and  between 
two  big  ones  said  they  saw  a  tall,  wild-looking  critter 
behind  stout  wooden  timbers,  gnashing  his  teeth  just 
as  if  he  was  mad,  and  rattling  his  chains.  While 
they  were  looking,  Sid  Lane  came,  and  before  they 
saw  him,  stood  before  them  with  his  hand  upon  hia 
hunting-knife.  He  raved  terribly,  and  swore  that 
if  he  ever  caught  a  live  man  on  his  premises  again, 
he  would  be  the  death  of  him.  I  wouldn't  go  there 
for  any  money.  Guess  the  wild  man  must  be  some 
crazy  relation  of  his'n." 

"I  don't  know  how  that  may  be,  but  I  have  particular 
reasons  for  wishing  to  see  this  man  — *  must  see  him. 
Who  is  there  that  can  be  hired  to  show  me  the  way 
up  the  ledge  ? " 

"  Don't  know  of  a  man  in  the  settlement  who  would 
do  it,  unless  it  is  my  youngest  boy,  Sam.  He  is  a 
perfect  dare-devil,  and  is  always  in  some  such  scrape. 
I  don't  know  but  I  might  consent  for  him  to  go  with 
you  just  to  accommodate,  but  I  am  plaguy  'fraid  that 
trouble  will  come  of  it." 

"  I'll  take  that  risk.  Sam,  as  you  call  him,  need 
not  go  farther  than  will  be  necessary  to  direct  me  to 
the  spot  where  this  wild  man  was  seen." 

The  revivalist  found  a  ready  spirit  in  Sam  Janson, 
and  after  breakfast  the  two  started  over  the  moun- 
tain. It  was  a  long  and  exciting  journey,  the  moun- 
tain being  made  up  of  immense  jagged  rocks,  heaped 


TWO   RESCUES.  r* 

in  wildest  confusion,  a  scattering  growth  of  spruce 
and  birch  clinging  to  rift  and  seam  for  a  rugged  sap 
port.  Here  and  there  deep  chasms  were  gashed  in. 
the  loose  boulders  and  stunted  timber  shutting  the 
sunlight  from  the  gloomy  depths.  To  avoid  all  chance 
of  meeting  Lane,  they  took  a  wide  detour,  which  use<l 
up  the  best  part  of  the  day  before  they  neared  tlic 
spot  sought.  The  snow  lay  over  the  fissures,  and  tho 
ascent  of  the  ledge  was  toilsome  and  even  dangerous. 
As  they  neared  the  head  of  the  gorge  in  which  re- 
port had  located  the  wild  man,  the  revivalist  insist- 
ed that  Janson  should  keep  a  lookout  from  the  crag, 
as  the  height  commanded  a  view  of  the  pass  where 
the  outlaw's  cabin  was  located. 

Alone,  the  old  man  set  out  on  his  strange  adven- 
ture. After  disappearing  down  the  rocks  among  the 
undergrowth,  he  pulled  a  pistol  from  his  pocket  and 
examined  it  carefully.  There  was  fire  in  the  man'd 
eye  and  a  vigor  in  his  step,  which  was  in  striking  con- 
trast with  one  of  his  character  and  age,  and  yet, 
asleep  or  awake,  at  the  evening  prayer,  or  preaching 
on  the  camp-ground,  the  weapon  had  for  years  been 
his  constant  companion.  His  footsteps  had  been  dog- 
ged by  a  sleepless  foe  —  the  very  man  who  claimed 
the  section  where  he  was  treading. 

The  sun  had  left  the  gorge  in  a  night-like  gloom, 
and  the  old  man  began  to  despair  of  effecting  the  ob- 
ject of  his  journey,  when  he  noticed  a  track  on  the 
table  below  him,  leading  still  deeper  into  the  gorge. 
He  hesitated  a  moment  to  see  that  the  fresh  track  had 


4:86  MINNIE   HEEMON. 

returned,  and  then  with  the  vigor  of  youth  he  sprang 
lightly  down  and  followed  the  first.  As  he  reached 
the  bottom  of  the  fearful  chasm,  he  stopped  and  lis- 
tened with  breathless  attention.  Being  confident  that 
whoever  might  that  day  have  visited  the  bottom,  they 
must  be  beyond  hearing,  he  put  his  fingers  to  his 
mouth  and  gave  a  low  but  prolonged  and  shrill  whis- 
tle. Three  times  he  repeated  the  sound  with  no  re- 
sponse save  the  echoes  which  faintly  died  away  down 
the  gorge.  Night  was  upon  him,  but  he  could  not 
abandon  his  purpose,  and  he  again  followed  the  track 
across  the  bottom  until  it  struck  the  other  ledge,  and 
wound  deftly  among  the  rocks.  He  whistled  again 
and  awaited  the  result. 

High  above,  as  if  in  the  upper  air,  a  wild  and  spec 
tral  ha,  ha,  burst  strangely  distinct  from  some  un- 
known source.     The  revivalist  grasped  his  staff  with 
excitement,  and  kept  his  hand  upon  his  pistol,  listen- 
ing with  a  heart  beating  violently  with  mingled  emo- 
tions.    He  heard  the  same  voice  again,  now  swelling 
out,  in  a  tone  at  once  melodious  and  shrill,  in  a  famil 
iar  hymn  often  sung  in  the  country  meetings. 

The  revivalist  whistled  again,  though  the  violence 
of  his  feelings  almost  unmanned  him.  He  hoped,  and 
yet  feared.  There  was  something  in  the  voice  which 
thrilled  like  a  well-remembered  tone,  and  should  his 
hopes  be  realized,  the  prayer  of  his  heart,  with  its 
most  cherished  purpose,  would  be  accomplished. 

"  Mock,  ye  human  devils  1  I  hear  you,  but  fear 
you  not.  I  was  sick,  and  you  bound  mo  and  cus- 


TWO   RESCUES.  487 

me  into  prison,  where  you  visited  me  hot.  But  an 
arm  that  is  mighty  to  save  shall  break  the  bands  and 
let  the  captive  go  free." 

There  was  no  mistaking  that  voice  :  and  with  great 
difficulty  the  listener  threaded  his  way  up  the  ledge, 
guided  somewhat  by  the  voice  above,  alternating  with 
denunciation  and  song.  When  nearly  half-way  up 
the  ascent  from  the  base,  the  path  led  between  two 
huge  boulders  out  upon  a  shelving  rock,  hanging  per- 
pendicular over  the  precipice.  In  the  high,  abrupt 
wall  immediately  back,  was  a  wide  seam  like  an  in- 
verted letter  v,  and  from  this  point  the  sound  still  pro- 
ceeded. The  revivalist  doubted  no  longer,  for  the 
voice  was  familiar,  and  he  could  have  shouted  for  joy. 
The  thread  of  plotting  wickedness  was  almost  in  his 
hand.  The  clear  sky  reflected  upon  the  high  and  ex- 
posed situation,  revealing  in  the  fissure  a  rough  frame- 
work of  timbers,  let  down  through  a  cross-fissure  a 
few  feet  back,  and  firmly  wedged.  And  from  such  a 
fastness  the  sound  of  a  human  voice  proceeded.  Af- 
ter resting  a  moment  from  the  severity  of  his  ascent 
and  the  oppression  of  his  thoughts,  the  revivalist  ad- 
vanced and  stood  close  to  the  timbers,  vainly  attempt- 
ing to  penetrate  the  darkness  within.  From  an  im- 
mense depth  the  sounds  still  came,  with  a  plaintive 
melody,  followed  by  a  burst  of  rage  and  defiance.  The 
revivalist  again  put  his  hands  to  his  mouth  and  gave 
a  low  whistle.  The  voice  within  ceased  for  a  mo- 
ment, and  then  there  was  a.  rattling  of  chains,  and  a 
wild  ha,  ha ! 


488  MINNIE   HEEMON. 

"  Come  on  !%  come  on,  ye  human  devils.  The  Lord 
will  smite  you  with  his  vengeance.  Even  in  chains  I 
scorn  you." 

The  listener  waited  a  moment,  and  then  in  low  and 
deliberate  tones,  pronounced  a  name. 

"  Ha !  What's  that  ?    Who  calls  me  ?  " 

"A  friend." 

"  Who  can  that  be  —  my  mother  ?  She  comes  in 
my  dreams ;  but  it's  so  cold  here  she  cannot  stay. 
But  an  angel  has  promised  to  let  me  out  and  gjve 
me  wings,  and  then,  woe  to  those  who  bound  me. 
My  swoop  shall  be  terrible." 

"How  came  you  here?  "  continued  the  revivalist, 
as  he  stood  sadly  listening  to  the  muttering  of  the 
insane. 

"  How  came  I  here  ?  ha !  ha  !  How  came  human 
devils  on  earth  ?  Ask  Skillott  —  ask  Jud  Lane  —  ask 
the  devil  down  the  ledge.  How  came  you  here  to 
deceive,  and  to  cut  my  throat  ?  Let  me  out,  and  I'll 
slay  forty  and  two  thousand  of  you  ?  " 

"  I  have  come  to  let  you  out  —  a  friend  from  Oak- 
vale.  Come  nearer." 

There  was  a  rattling  of  chains,  and  footsteps  care- 
fully approached  the  timbers. 

"  Here,"  reaching  his  arm  in  between  them,  "  put 
your  hand  in  mine,"  again  speaking  that  familiar 
name,  and  mentioning  some  circumstances  of  the  past, 
"  and  know  that  you  have  a  friend  that  will  save 
you." 

Lightly,  like  the  touch  of  a  cat,  long,  cold  fingers 


TWO   EESCUES.  4:89 

were  dropped  suspiciously  upon  the  revivalist's  palm, 
the  latter  all  the  time  speaking  in  a  winning,  soothing 
tone.  Silently  the  captive  felt  of  the  hand,  and  then 
up  the  arm ;  then  grasped  the  palm  in  both  of  his, 
and  stooped  and  kissed  it,  the  revivalist  feeling  warm 
drops  as  the  hairy  lips  touched  his  palm. 

"And  don't  you  know  me !  Didn't  you  ever  hear 
my  voice  before  ? " 

"  I  have,  but  it  was  a  long  while  ago  !  "  The  re- 
vivalist was  overjoyed  to  witness  the  soothing  effect 
of  his  words,  and  continued  to  converse  with  the  cap- 
tive. Looking  around  warily,  he  put  his  mouth  to 
the  widest  opening,  and  whispered  something  in  the 
captive's  ear. 

" hallelujah!" 

"  Hush !  never  speak  that  word  to  mortal  ear,"  and 
the  startled  revivalist  again  looked  behind  him  un- 
easily. 

"  You  know  me,  then !  " 

"  I  do.  And  have  you  come  to  let  me  out  ?  Oh, 
if  I  could  go  back  to  Oakvale.  There's  a  great  work 
there  for  me  to  do.  But  it  may  be  too  late.  How 
long  have  I  been  here  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  tell ;  but  to-morrow  night  you  shall  go 
free.  You  must  wait  and  'keep  silent? 

"  I'll  wait  if  it's  God's  will ;  but  it's  so  cold  and 
dark  here.  You'll  surely  come  ?  " 

"  If  I  live,"  and  the  revivalist  slowly  withdrew  his 
hand  from  the  reluctant  captive's  strong  grasp,  and 
slowly  pursued  his  way  down  the  ledge.  At  the  base 


4:90  MINNIE   HEKMON. 

lie  met  a  person  in  the  path,  whom,  in  the  darkness, 
he  could  hardly  recognize.  Hastily  cocking  his  pis- 
tol, he  demanded  .who  was  there. 

"  Why,  Sam  Janson  !  I  didn't  know  what  might 
happen,  and  so  kind  a  walked  along  a  little.  No 
harm  done,  I  hope  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no  ;  but  let  us  hurry  on." 

In  spite  of  the  blunt,  though  cordial  remonstrance 
of  young  Janson,  the  revivalist  insisted  that  the  for- 
mer should  return  to  the  settlement  and  procure  an 
axe,  saw  and  iron  bar,  and  return  by  the  next  eve- 
ning, leaving  him  (the  revivalist)  on  the  mountain. 
The  latter  was  determined  not  to  be  foiled  in  the  ob- 
ject of  his  coming. 

He  watched  eagerly  in  his  concealment  for  the 
coming  of  the  night,  often  regretting  that  he  had  not 
himself  gone  back  to  the  settlement  so  as  to  have 
made  sure  of  his  implements.  But  jnst  as  it  began 
to  grow  dusk,  a  low  whistle,  as  agreed  upon,  indicated 
the  return  of  Janson.  He  had  failed  in  procuring  an 
iron  bar,  and  as  a  substitute,  had  brought  a  heavy 
crane  from  the  fire-place  at  home.  Silently  the  two 
pursued  their  way  down  into  the  gorge  and  across 
the  bottom.  Here  the  revivalist  posted  young  Jan- 
Bon  with  his  rifle,  with  instructions  to  give  him  timely 
warning  of  any  approach  from  below,  and  with  his 
tools  commenced  the  ascent.  The  silence  was  bro- 
ken only  by  the  lonely  hooting  of  an  owl  across  the 
gorge,  and  the  sighing  of  the  winds  as  they  swept 
through  the  stunted  mountain  pines.  Approaching 


TWO   RESCUES.  4:91 

the  entrance,  he  listened  for  a  moment  and  then 
asked  : 

" ,  are  you  here  ?  " 

"  How  could  I  be  anywhere  else  with  these  ungodly 
chains  upon  me  ?  "  soberly  though  somewhat  bitterly 
replied  the  captive,  immediately  advancing  and 
eagerly  clasping  the  hand  thrust  between  the  timbers. 
"And  you  have  come  to  let  me  out !  It  seemed  so 
long  since  you  were  here  that  I  feared  it  was  a  mad- 
man's dream.  I  have  feared  I  was  mad.  Do  you 
think  I  am  ?  " 

"  It's  enough  to  make  any  one  mad  —  a  place  like 
this.  But  daylight  will  not  find  us  here,"  cheerfully 
answered  the  revivalist,  laying  off  his  coat  and  com- 
mencing a  thorough  examination  of  the  timbers.  The 
iron  crane  was  not  of  sufficient  strength  to  pry  them 
apart  so  as  to  admit  his  body,  and  he  commenced 
with  the  saw,  often  stopping  to  listen.  The  sweat 
rolled  down  his  face,  but  he  worked  with  unabating 
vigor,  and  soon  cut  out  one  of  the  heavy  timbers. 
"With  the  crane  in  hand,  he  stepped  into  the  cavern 
and  called  the  captive's  name,'  being  immediately 
clasped  in  a  strong  embrace  and  loaded  with  blessings. 
Upon  examination,  he  found  that  one  of  the  legs  of 
the  captive  was  in  irons,  the  chain  fastened  to  the 
ankle  by  a  padlock,  and  to  the  heaviest  timber  of  the 
doorway  by  a  large  staple.  Inserting  the  crooked 
end  of  the  crane  into  the  link  in  the  staple,  he  twisted 
it  against  the  latter  until  it  snapped  in  two.  With 
the  head  of  the  axe  carefully  applied,  the  padjock 


492  MINNIE  HERMON. 

was  soon  broken  to  pieces,  and  the  fetters  unloosed 
from  the  leg.  In  silence  the  captive  —  now  no  longer 
so — followed  his  deliverer  into  the  open  air,  when 
he  paused,  looked  up  to  the  sky,  drew  a  long  breath, 
and  then  locked  his  hands  in  silent  prayer. 

"  Have  you  strength  to  follow  me,  asked  the  re- 
vivalist. 

"  Strength  enough ;  havn't  starved  ;  the  devils  did 
not  wish  that." 

"  Then  follow  /" 

They  had  not  half  made  the -descent  into  the  bot- 
tom of  the  gorge,  when  a  rifle  shot  rang  out  upon  the 
night  air,  giving  warning  of  an  unwelcome  approach, 
immediately  followed  by  Janson's  footsteps  as  he 
sprang  lightly  up  the  steep  path.  The  three  immedi- 
ately stepped  behind  a  rock  and  awaited  farther  re- 
sults. The  revivalist  was  intensely  anxious  about  his 
companion,  fearing  that  his  mind  was  not  sufficiently 
sound  to  meet  calmly  a  new  danger ;  but  his  heart 
beat  lighter  as  he  saw  him  in  the  dim  light,  by  his 
side,  and  cool  as  he  ever  had  been  in  a  time  of  diffi- 
culty and  danger. 

While  the  revivalist  was  peering  around  the  path 
to  scan  the  approach  from  below,  a  bullet  pierced  his 
hat  and  scalp,  grazing  the  skull,  and  prostrating  him 
to  the  ground. 

"  There,  meddler !  I  saw  your  track,  and  have  paid 

you  for  your  curiosity,  I  reckon.  I  knew  you,  • 

,  all  the  time,"  chuckled  Sid  Lane,  as  he  ap- 
proached the  now-struggling  revivalist. 


TWO   RESCUES.  493 

"And  I  know  you,  Sid  Lane  !  and  the  Philistines 
be  upon  yon,"  howled  the  Hermit,  (for  it  was  he,) 
springing  fiercely  upon  the  former  as  he  stooped  to 
thrust  his  knife  into  the  prostrate  revivalist,  with  a 
howl  almost  unearthly  from  its  bitter  fierceness. 

Lane  had  been  taken  by  surprise,  he  supposing  the 
gun  below  was  fired  by  the  one  whom  he  had  shot, 
and  not  suspecting  that  there  were  others  in  his  com- 
pany. The  struggle  was  brief.  With  one  desperate 
exertion  of  his  strength,  the  Hermit  caught  up  the 
withered  old  man,  and  in  spite  of  his  struggles,  car- 
••ied  him  to  the  edge  of  the  rocky  path  and  hurled 
him  off,  muttering  as  he  listened  after  the  fall  below, 
and  then  turned  to  look  to  the  revivalist.  That  per- 
sonage was  not  injured,  save  a  severe  wound  in  the 
scalp,  and  had  recovered  from  the  stunning  effects  of 
the  shot.  The  three  immediately  commenced  their 
night-journey  to  the  settlement. 

Lane  was  not  badly  injured  by  his  fall,  as  there 
happened  to  be  a  table  of  rocks  between  him  and  the 
precipice  ;  but  he  wisely  chose  to  shun  the  odds 
against  him,  and  trust  to  other  chances  to  carry  out 
his  purposes.  He  ground  his  teeth  and  swore  bitterly 
when  he  found  that  his  enemy  had  not  been  killed  by 
his  shot. 

—  They  will  meet  once  more. 


CHAPTER   XXXV. 

IN    WHICH   THE    READER   WILL   SEE   SOME   ACQUAINTANCES 
AND   THE   RESULTS    OF   THE   WORK. 

THERE  was  a  happy  day  in  Oakvale,  for  the  Maine 
Law  had  passed,  and  drunkenness  was  to  be  no  more. 
The  day  when  the  law  was  to  go  into  force,  was  to  be 
commemorated  with  bonfires  and  illuminations ;  by 
prayers,  songs  and  shouts  ;  by  the  ringing  of  bells  and 
the  firing  of  cannon.  At  sunrise,  the  roaring  of  the 
latter  awoke  the  people,  and  iishered  in  a  day  of  fes- 
tivity and  joy.  The  cannon  had  been  placed  over 
the  river  and  far  up  the  mountain,  and  the  smoke 
from  its  hoarse  lungs  rolled  away  like  a  banner,  and 
rested  in  the  air  of  the  clear  spring  morning.  There 
was  not  a  cloud  in  the  sky.  The  sparrows  and  blue- 
birds had  just  returned  to  sing  a  welcome  to  the  bud- 
ding leaf  and  flower.  There  was  a  constant  tramp- 
ling of  feet  upon  the  walks,  as  the  masses  gathered 
from  the  surrounding  country,  by  twos  and  by  scores. 
They  came  on  foot,  on  horse-back,  and  in  carriages. 
Many  a  family  had  left  the  house  to  take  care  of  itself, 
so  eager  were  the  women  and  children,  especially,  to 
witness  the  rejoicings.  Groups  of  children  in  their 
Sunday  suits  were  tripping  here  and  there,  and  with 
few  exceptions,  all  wore  smiling  countenances.  Flags 


GOOD   RESULTS.  495 

from  windows  and  from  ropes  stretched  across  the 
principal  streets,  wrought  with  appropriate  devices, 
were  fluttering  gaily  in  the  breeze.  Many  a  drunk 
ard,  sober  from  necessity,  was  observed  to  watch  the 
streamers  and  listen  to  the  music  of  the  bands,  until 
he  was  borne  away  with  the  spirit  of  the  day,  and 
smiled  upon  the  scene.  Poorly  dressed  mothers  with 
ragged  but  clean-looking  children,  came  forth  for  the 
first  time  in  years,  and  watched  the  proceedings  with 
deep  interest.  The  church  in  which  the  meeting  was 
to  convene  was  bedecked  with  evergreen,  tastefully 
wrought  into  vines,  festoons,  and  beautiful  devices. 

The  firing  of  the  cannon  shook  the  dark  walls  of 
the  prison,  and  startled  a  band  of  felons  which  had 
just  "  turned  out "  for  the  day's  work.  In  a  gang  of 
hands  employed  upon  a  roof  of  one  of  the  new  shops, 
were  two  convicts,  who  often  cast  their  eyes  towards 
the  smoke  curling  from  the  cannon  on  the  mountain 
side.  They  had  learned  enough  to  divine  the  cause 
of  the  universal  commotion,  and  their  eagle  spirit? 
chafed  as  they  heard  the  hum  of  voices  and  the  strains 
of  music.  The  large  national  banner  which  rolled 
and  swayed  from  the  staff  on  the  Square,  seemed  to 
taunt  them  with  its  graceful  movements  in  the  free 
air.  Who  of  the  throng  thought  of  them  in  their 
prison-house  \ 

The  two  prisoner's  were  Doctor  Howard  and  Wal- 
ter Brayton !  The  sentence  of  the  latter  had  been 
commuted  to  imprisonment  for  life  on  the  strength  of 
the  direct  testimony  of  Halton  and  his  daughter. 


496  MINNIE.  HERMONT. 

Towards  noon,  our  old  acquaintance,  the  revivalist, 
travel-worn  and  haggard,  though  smiling,  knocked  at 
the  warden's  door,  and  inquired  for  Howard  and 
Brayton. 

To  his  statement  that  he  had  taken  an  interest  in 
those  convicts  —  that  he  believed  them  to  be  no  com- 
mon criminals,  the  warden  sneeringly  blurted  out  an 
oath,  and  put  all  criminals  in  the  same  class  —  cold- 
hearted  and  relentless,  never  seeing  the  semblance 
of  humanity  in  the  wretch  that  has  committed  a  crime> 
and  boasting  of  his  cruelty,  as  though  it  were  an  ev- 
idence of  great  capacity  for  rule.  And  yet,  look  at 
the  physiognomy  of  the  man  !  the  small,  black,  hog 
eye ;  the  narrow  and  ill-shaped  brow ;  the  lisping 
tongue,  sounding  like  the  serpent's  hiss  ;  and  the  sen- 
sual lips,  which  grin  like  an  idiot's  when  the  man  at- 
tempts to  be  a  gentleman,  or  leer  like  a  devil's 
when  his  nature  glares  unrestrained  upon  his  repul- 
sive features.  He  has  no  more  idea  of  the  real  duties 
and  responsibilities  of  his  position  than  the  bull-dog 
in  his  kennel.  Without  talents  to  govern  men  as  a 
man,  his  only  way  to  win  notoriety  is  to  be  a  brute 
and  beat  men  as  brutes.  We  are  not  mistaken  in  that 
face.  We  have  read  the  souls  of  more  cunning  men 
in  our  day,  arid  we  can  decipher  the  language  written 
on  that  physiognomy  as  plainly  as  though  written  in 
English.  We  know  the  man's  whole  strength,  his 
course  of  habits,  thoughts,  and  the  motives  which 
govern  his  action.  If  he  has  not  committed  a  state' 
prison  crime,  nature  has  written  false. 


GOOD   RESULTS.  497 

He  at  first  refused  to  call  the  two  convicts  fKm  the 
shops,  but  as  the  revivalist  showed  him  a  sealed  pa- 
per, his  countenance  changed  to  sickening  smiles,  and 
he  hastened  to  send  for  the  men.  They  entered  the 
office  with  a  mien  unbroken  by  their  degrading  po- 
sition—  paler  than  at  the  time  we  saw  them  last,  but 
erect  and  dignified,  as  in  their  best  days.  By  permis- 
sion of  the  now  obsequious  warden,  the  revivalist 
advanced,  and  without  a  word  of  explanation  or  in- 
troduction, handed  each  a  full  and  complete  pardon 
from  the  Governor  of  the  State  ! 

Howard  bowed  his  head  on  the  desk,  and  with  a 
sudden  and  convulsive  movement,  crushed  the  paper 
in  his  hand.  As  suddenly  he  raised  his  head  again, 
and  advanced  to  the  window,  as  if  to  make  sure  that 
he*  had  read  aright.  Brayton  stood  motionless  and 
silent  for  a  moment,  perfectly  overwhelmed  with  the 
violence  of  his  emotions.  Then  his  lips  began  to 
quiver,  and  he  burst  into  a  sob  which  shook  his  strong 
frame  as  though  it  had  been  a  child's.  Howard  first 
attempted  to  speak. 

"  No,  no,  my  friends !  Though  I  am  a  stranger, 
you  once  befriended  me  in  a  dark  day.  I  have  now 
had  the  happiness  of  doing  you  both  a  kindness  in 
return.  I  wish  you,  as  a  favor  which  you  will  soon 
understand,  to  put  yourselves  under  my  direction 
this  day.  Let  us  go." 

The  convict  garb  was  soon  laid  off',  and  with  feel- 
ings which  cannot  be  written,  Howard  and  Brayton 
followed  their  stranger  friend  through  the  massive 


498  MINNIE   HEEMON. 

iron  gate,  nearly  sinking  with  the  intensity  of  their 
feelings,  as  it  crashed  back  to  its  place,  and  they 
stood  in  the  sunshine  of  the  wide,  free  world. 

The  church  was  overflowing.  Every  place  where 
a  foot  could  find  a  place  was  occupied,  and  out-doors 
the  sea  of  heads  reached  as  far  again.  The  roar  of 
the  cannon  and  the  music  of  the  choir  had  kept  the 
vast  assemblage  in  good  feeling  while  awaiting  the 
procession  of  the  Orders  and  the  arrival  of  the  speak- 
ers. Indeed,  almost  every  person  seemed  to  feel  well. 
Skillott  had  taken  a  conspicuous  stand  upon  the  plat- 
form, the  sinister  smile  more  prominent  than  usual. 

From  one  of  the  open  windows  back  of  the  plat- 
form, the  speakers,  and  leading  temperance  men, 
clergymen,  &c.,  and  visitors,  came  in,  and  were  seat- 
ed on  the  platform.  With  John  Gault,  Hal  ton,  and 
others  of  the  old  veterans,  were  three  persons  closely 
muffled,  who  remained  so  during  the  exercises,  at- 
tracting much  notice  from  the  curious  thousands  as- 
sembled. 

We  cannot  describe  the  character  of  that  meeting ; 
it  were  a  profanation  to  attempt  it.  All  hearts  were 
full,  and  from  their  fullness  the  mouths  spake,  and 
with  a  three-times-three  that  mingled  proudly  with 
the  pealing  of  the  cannon,  the  people  adjourned  to 
the  Square,  where  glorinis  things  were  to  be  wit- 
nessed. Skillott  volunteered  to  announce  his  devotion 
to  the  Maine  Law,  and  Dobbs  smiled  graciously,  but 
the  people  swept  out  and  hurried  to  the  Square. 


GOOD  BESTTLTS.  499 

In  the  middle  of  the  Square  were  a  number  of  bar- 
rels of  liquor,  seized  by  Marshal  Gaston  under  the 
new  law,  and  which  were  to  be  destroyed  that  day. 
Every  window  in  sight  of  the  place  was  filled  with 
heads,  and  surrounding  the  barrels  was  a  dark  mass 
of  eager  and  excited  people.  Overhead,  the  flag  of 
our  country  lifted  gracefully  on  the  winds. 

"With  a  smile  upon  his  countenance,  Gaston  seized 
his  sledge  which  he  had  brought  from  his  shop,  and 
was  about  to  strike  the  first  head  in,  when  the  revi- 
valist caught  his  hand  and  arrested  the  blow ;  and 
mounting  the  doomed  barrel,  he  said,  in  a  clear 
voice : 

"  Men  and  women  of  Oakvale !  I  will  not  long 
avert  a  blow  which  you  are  so  anxious  to  see  fall. 
As  the  accursed  destroyer  has  robbed  me  of  all  that 
loved  me,  I  shall  claim  of  our  good  friend  Gaston 
the  privilege  of  wielding  the  first  blow  of  this  right- 
eous enactment,  in  Oakvale.  Before  I  do  so,  howev- 
er, here,  before  assembled  thousands,  let  justice  be 
done  to  those  who  have  been  wronged.  You  recol- 
lect Doctor  Howard  and  Walter  Bray  ton  —  twro  as 
noble-hearted  men  as  ever  lived  among  you.  (Aye, 
aye,  murmured  the  crowd  ;  but  Skillott  frowned.)  I 
have  taken  this  occasion  to  have  their  good  names 
vindicated  from  every  stain,  and  have  the  proof  at 
hand.  The  consequences  may  be  unpleasant  to  some, 
and  grate  discordantly  upon  the  general  character 
of  the  exercises,  b  .it  I  know  that  you  will  be  glad  to 


500  MINNIE   HERMON. 

see  innocent  men  dealt  justly  with  by  their  neigh- 
bors." 

"  Yes,  yes ;  that  we  will,"  was  answered  by  many 
voices,  amidst  intense  feeling  and  a  swaying  of  the 
crowd  as  the  people  attempted  to  get  nearer  the 
speaker. 

"  Doctor  Howard  did  not  rob  Gerald  Bray  ton's  grave 
neither  did  Walter  Brayton  murder  Nye,  the  drover 
And  now  to  the  proof.  Here  are  two  witnesses  whom 
I  would  believe,  for  I  have  known  them  for  years, 
and  never  knew  them  to  lie." 

The  revivalist  then  leaped  from  the  barrel  and 
urged  the  two  closely  muffled  individuals  upon  the 
small  platform,  and  with  his  own  hands  lifted  off  their 
hats  and  threw  their  cloaks  from  their  shoulders. 

"  People  of  Oakvale  !  Doctor  Howard  and  Walter 
Brayton  stand  before  you.  Let  any  man  say  that  he 
knows  aught  of  crime  against  tfyem." 

The  crowd  swayed  like  a  deep  wave,  but  still  and 
breathless.  Skillott  turned  deadly  pale  as  he  recog- 
nized the  two  men,  but  quickly  recovered  his  outward 
coolness. 

"Proof!"  he  sneered.  "This  is  a  pretty  pass. 
Convicts  breaking  prison,  and  relying  upon  a  Maine 
Law  excitement  to  keep  them  from  justice."  Howard 
and  Brayton  both  tried  to  catch  the  eye  of  the  Judge, 
but  in  vain. 

"  Judge  Skillott  speaks  of  breaking  prison,"  said 
the  revivalist,  again  mounting  the  liquor-cask.  "  I 


GOOD  RESULTS.  501 

will  read  the  plan  of  their  escape,"  producing  and 
reading  the  two  pardons.  "  But  he  asks  proof.  Let 
him  look  at  the  tall  man  who  has  just  dropped  his 
cloak  from  his  face." 

The  Hermit  stood  erect  and  calm  before  the  people 
—  his  full  eye  resting  upon  Skillott. 

"  Let  him  again  look  at  the  female  whom  Mr.  Bray- 
ton  has  just  led  before  you  from  the  carriage  by  the 
flag-staff." 

Embarrassed,  but  still  beautiful  and  erect,  Minnie 
Hermon  stood  with  her  head  uncovered. 

"  God  has  blessed  our  endeavors  to  scent  out  wrong, 
and  here  is  proof  which  will  be  used  to  clear  the  in- 
nocent and  convict  the  guilty.  Friends,  Walter 
Brayton  will  speak." 

Pale  from  long  confinement,  Walter  stood  up,  and 
in  a  voice  which  had  lost  none  of  its  wondrous  depth 
and  power,  said,  in  substance  : 

"  Friends !  I  will  not  attempt  to  speak  what  is  this 
day  in  my  heart.  You  know  me  and  my  history.  I 
have  been  deeply  wronged,  as,  I  thank  God,  I  shall  be 
able  to  show.  By  the  influence  of  enemies,  I  was 
induced  to  wrong  another.  Before  God  and  this  as- 
semblage, I  will  make  all  the  amends  it  is  mine  to  do, 
though  not  worthy  of  the  privilege." 

The  revivalist  then  asked  if  there  were  any  who 
knew  why  Walter  Brayton  and  Minnie  Hermon 
should  not  be  united  in  the  holy  bands  of  marriage  ? 
There  was  no  response,  and  he  proceeded  to  pronounce 
them  man  and  wife,  and  then  put  up  a  prayer  which 


502  MENNIE   HERMON. 

was  full  of  tne  dark  night  past  and  the  promising 
morning  of  a  better  future. 

"And  now,  men  and  women  of  Oakvale,  James 
Ricks  strikes  the  first  blow  !  "  at  the  same  time  spring- 
ing to  the  ground  and  bringing  the  sledge  down  upon 
the  barrel  he  had  stood  upon,  knocking  in  the  head. 

"  Depart,  ye  cursed,  to  the  place  prepared  for  you/' 
fiercely  shouted  the  Hermit,  as  he  seized  the  weapon 
and  with  a  powerful  sweep  crushed  through  a  head 
at  every  blow. 

"  Old  Barney  Kitts  has  turned  spirit-rapper,"  said 
that  old  toper,  now  cleanly  dressed,  although  it  took 
three  of  his  feebler  strokes  to  let  the  spirits  out. 

The  cannon  pealed  from  up  the  mountain,  the  bells 
rang  out  a  merry  chime,  and  the  crowd,  no  longer 
able  to  control  their  enthusiasm,  shouted  until  their 
voices  well-nigh  drowned  the  roar  of  the  cannon  ;  and 
putting  Hicks,  Howard,  Brayton  and  Minnie,  Gault, 
Ilalton,  and  the  Hermit  into  the  wagon,  to  the  music 
of  the  band  and  deafening  hurrahs,  escorted  them 
through  the  principal  streets.  As  the  sun  faded  out, 
fire  was  set  to  the  liquor,  still  in  pools  and  in  the  bro- 
ken barrels,  the  flames  leaping  and  writhing  like  red 
sarpents,  as  they  shot  upward  towards  the  sky. 

"  Too  late  !  too  late !  Oh,  if  this  had  been  done 
years  ago,  I  should  not  have  been  robbed  of  my  boy," 
murmured  old  Mrs.  Weston,  and  she  wept  as  she  sat 
in  her  door  and  watched  the  flashing  flame. 

That  evening,  as  Skillott  was  sitting  in  his  office, 
buried  iu  deep  thought,  he  was  startled  by  a  loud  rap 


GOOD  RESULTS.  503 

on  the  door.  The  door  -was  locked  ;  but  he  sprang 
from  his  chair  and  turned  deadly  pale.  Seizing  a 
bundle  of  papers  which  lay, on  the  table,  and  thrust- 
ing them  into  his  pocket,  he  hastened  through  the 
house  into  the  back  yard.  As  he  leaped  the  fence 
and  stood  by  the  river  bank,  he  encountered  the  one 
whom,  of  all  others,  he  most  dreaded. 

"  Leaving  these  parts,  eh  ?  You  saw  me  off  once, 
and  I  thought  I  would  return  the  compliment.  Are 
there  not  more  murderers  to  try,  Judge  ?  Tliey  are 
not  all  hung  yet !  —  ha,  ha  !  " 

The  Hermit  sat  in  the  boat  which  Skillott  had 
provided  for  an  escape.  The  latter  drew  his  pistol ; 
but  a  strong  grasp  from  behind  caught  the  arm,  and 
the  ball  struck  the  water  far  beyond  the  boat. 

"  Not  so  good  a  marksman  as  when  you  tried  me 
before  with  ball !  Hand  a  little  unsteady,  perhaps. 
Gerald  Brayton's  was  when  he  signed  the  will ! " 
chuckled  the  Hermit  as  he  leaped  ashore  and  assisted 
Sheriff  Gaston  in  placing  the  prisoner  in  irons.  "  Been, 
waiting  for  you  some  time.  Jud  Lane  will  be  glad 
to  see  you  at  the  jail.  Your  friend,  Mr.  Hermon,  has 
left  without  so  much  as  bidding  us  good  bye." 

The  Hermit  had  dogged  Skillott's  footsteps,  and 
from  his  hiding-place  watched  the  arrangements  for 
escape,  and  listened  to  the  plans  of  Skillott  and  Lane. 
Jlermon  had  not  waited  for  darkness,  but  during  the 
scene  upon  the  Square  had  slipped  away  and  made 
good  his  escape.  From  a  manuscript  we  gather  sointj 
of  the  incidents  which  followed  : 
21 


504:  MINNIE   HERMON. 

"  OAKVALE,  Aug.  5,  18 — . 
DOCTOK  HOWARD: — 

"We  think  and  talk  of  you  often,  and  miss  you 
much,  but  do  not  wonder  that  you  do  not  wish  to  re- 
side in  Oakvale,  for  the  associations  are  sad  indeed. 
I  was  at  poor  Mary's  grave  to-day,  and  thought  of  all 
the  past.  I  go  there  often  and  tend  the  flowers  with 
a  watchful  care.  I  loved  her,  for  she  was  a  kind  and 
true  friend  to  me  in  the  dark  days.  And  she  lives 
not  on  earth  to  witness  the  dawning  of  a  better  day  ! 

"  You  have  probably  heard  ere  this,  that  Skillott 
committed  suicide  in  the  jail  on  the  day  before  ho 
was  to  have  been  executed.  Jud  Lane  was  hung,  after 
making  a  full  confession  of  his  crimes. 

"  I  have  been  sad  to-day,  and  have  wept  much. 
Last  night  a  poor  looking  old  beggar  called  at  our 
door,  and  in  God's  name  plead  for  food  and  rest. 
Neither  Walter  nor  myself  could  refuse  the  appeal, 
and  therefore  we  took  him  in.  This  morning  he  died, 
after  putting  his  fleshless  arms  around  my  neck  and 
asking  my  forgiveness.  The  poor,  wandering  beggar 
was  the  once  proud  and  honorable  John  Hermon,  my 
father  !  How  different  would  have  been  his  end  but 
for  rum !  As  the  Widow  Weston  says,  the  law  carno 

too  late So  you  perceive  that  there  are 

shadows  yet  flitting  here  and  there  in  my  sky. 

41  You  will  remember  the  Hermit,  and  how  strange- 
ly he  disappeared  while  you  were  under  arrest.  Ho 
was  kidnapped  by  Skillott  and  Lane  after  being  shot 


GOOD  RESULTS.  505 

in  the  shoulder.  But  you  were  made  acquainted  with 
all  the  facts  of  his  disappearance,  imprisonment  in  the 
Ledge,  and  release  by  Ricks.  You  may  not  know, 
however,  that  he  and  '  Crazy  Alf '  are  the  same,  and 
that  he  is  a  son  of  Elder  Snyder,  and  an  uncle  of 
mine  !  He  had  traced  father  to  this  place,  and  after 
his  reform,  became  impressed  with  the  belief  that  he 
was  an  instrument  selected  to  punish  his  sister's  hus- 
band—  my  father  —  for  his  cruelty  to  her.  He  is 
with  us  now,  meek,  kind,  and  gentle  to  all,  though  a 
word  about  rum  will  arouse  him  to  the  fiercest  wild- 
ness.  It  would  do  you  good  to  see  him  '  smite '  the 
liquor  barrels  wherever  they  are  found.  He  spends 
much  of  his  time  by  the  grave  of  his  mother.  He 
still  persists  in  carrying  his  long  staff,  and  in  wearing 
his  beard. 

•  ••••••••• 

"  Bless  God  for  the  Maine  Law !  It  has  filled  the 
land  with  gladness  and  joy,  and  there  is  rejoicing  ev- 
erywhere. You  can  hardly  conceive  the  change  it 
has  wrought  in  Oakvale.  N"o  drunkenness  is  seen, 
and  seldom  a  case  of  suffering  from  poverty  or  want. 
Pauperism  has  almost  entirely  disappeared,  and  the 
jail  is  empty,  save  now  and  then  a  prisoner,  who  may 
have  been  convicted  of  selling  rum.  Walter  tells  me 
that  there  is  but  little  business  in  the  courts.  I  look 
down  where  the  babe  is  slumbering  in  the  cradle,  and 
tears  of  great  gladness  come  freely  from  a  full  heart, 
and  I  audibly  thank  God.  My  boy,  if  he  lives,  will 
not  be  exposed  to  the  sweep  of  the  dark  stream  that 


506  MINNIE   HEKMON. 

has  wrecked  so  many  of  my  hopes  in  other  day*\ 
Walter  has  recovered  his  father's  property  from  Skil- 
lott,  arid  with  this,  added  to  the  avails  of  his  practice, 
we  are  surrounded  with  comfort.  We  are  happy,  yet 
do  not  forget  your  own  broken  home.  .  .  . 

"Sid  Lane  was  recently  sentenced  to  the  state  pris- 
on for  a  long  career  of  body-snatching.  It  appears 
strange  that  the  infatuated  populace  should  have  so 
injured  you  and  yours  for  being  suspected  of  such  a 
crime,  while  they  supported  the  business  of  selling 
rum — strange  to  license  men  to  destroy  the  living, 
and  imprison  men  for  robbing  the  dead  !  It  is  cer- 
tainly worse  to  rob  the  heart  and  the  home,  than  the 
grave. 

"  Hon.  Mr.  Fenton  was  here  yesterday.  He  was 
surprised  to  find  that  we  had  but  just  commenced 
the  married  life.  He  had  gotten  the  impression  that 
Walter  was  the  one  who  turned  his  family  out  of 
doors  to  freeze.  We  were  happy  to  undeceive  him. 

"Mr.  Hudson — you  have  not  forgotten  Mortimer 
Hudson,  the  elder  —  is  well,  and  his  home  is  as  happy 
as  it  can  well  be.  He  and  Ricks  are  much  together  in 
works  of  goodness.  The  latter  lingers  and  weeps  like 
a  child  by  the  graves  of  his  family.  He  was  arrested 
at  the  instigation  of  Sid  Lane,  and  tried  for  an  as- 
sault with  intent  to  kill  the  latter,  in  the  rescue  of  Al- 
fred Snyder ;  but  Alfred  testified  to  the  facts,  and  he 
was  acquitted.  I  believe  I  have  detailed  the  princi- 
pal facts  you  would  be  glad  to  hear,  though  you  will 
DO  glad  to  learn  that  Deacon  McGarr  has  become  a 


GOOD   RESULTS.  507" 

sober  and  industrious  man,  and  that  old  Barney  Kitts 
lives  like  a  king. 

"  Yes,  my  dear  friend,  we  are  happy  in  the  light  of 
this  new  day.  Walter  has  just  come  in  and  lifted 
Henry  — (we  have  named  our  babe  Henry  Howard} — 
from  his  cradle,  and  Alfred  and  Ricks  are  conversing 
in  low  tones  in  the  verandah.  The  sun  has  crept  up 
and  flooded  the  sheet,  on  which  I  am  writing,  with 
golden  light,  and  the  heart  reflects  it  from  its  un- 
clouded depths.  A  long,  dark  night  has  passed  away ; 
and  with  the  most  profound  gratitude  to  God,  \ve 
look  forward  to  greet  the  FULL  MORNING  OF  A  BRIGHT- 
ER, BETTER  DAY! 

"  Walter  says  that  you  may  look  for  us  in  October, 
in  your  western  hiding-place. 

"Till  then,' adieu! 

"  MIKNIE  BRAYTON." 

"We  will  not  detain  the  reader  longer,  though  the 
subsequent  history  of  our  principal  characters  (and 
they  are  now  living)  might  be  interesting. 

Alfred  Snyder  was  driven  from  his  home  by  the 
"  iron  rule,"  and  became  reckless  and  abandoned  for 
many  years.  He  found,  on  his  return,  that  his  moth- 
er had  died ;  and  after  drinking  deeper  than  before, 
he  suddenly  formed  the  resolution  to  drink  no  more. 
His  enthusiastic  nature  assumed  the  phase  of  religious 
zeal,  and  he  became  a  firm  believer  in  his  Heaven-di- 
rected mission  against  the  rum  traffic.  The  same 
u  iron  rule  "  had  driven  an  only  daughter  from  home 


508  MINNIE   IIEKMON. 

because  she  married  Hermon,  then  a  worthy  young 
man,  but  belonging  to  another  denomination.  The 
Elder  is  a  lonely  old  man,  unloved  and  shunned  by 
all,  and  cannot  obtain  hearers  even,  when  speaking 
against  the  Temperance  Reform. 

Alfred  was  kidnapped  and  imprisoned  in  the  fast- 
nesses of  one  of  the  counties  of  Northern  Pennsylva- 
nia. He  owed  his  life  to  the  fact  that  Skillott  had 
learned  that  he  had  become  an  heir  to  a  large  proper- 
ty, and  it  was  determined  to  frighten  him  into  a  sur- 
render of  the  claim. 

Howard  is  a  man  of  sorrow;  for  he  does  not  forget 
the  loss  of  his  accomplished  wife.  Save  now  and 
then  a  shadow  which  flits  from  the  past,  Minnie  and 
"Walter  are  happy.  Their  deeds  are  the  best  record 
of  their  goodness  and  their  standing  in  the  commu- 
nity where  they  live. 

Old  Mrs.  Weston  lives  to  rejoice  over  the  Reforma- 
tion. Its  advent  could  not  restore  her  son  to  her  old 
heart,  but  it  will  save  other  sons  who  are  loved  as  she 
loved  hers. 


MISS  BRAYTON  DEVOTED  TO  THE  CAUSE. 


CHAPTER  XXXYI. 

THE  JOY  OF  DOING  GOOD MINNIE  ASD  WALTER  BE- 
COME INTERESTED  IN  THE  GOOD  TEMPLAR  MOVE- 
MENT  W ALTER  MADE  GRAND  WORTHY  TEMPLAR. 

SHADOW  and  sunshine  are  set  over  against  each 
other  in  this  life ;  and  whether  we  are  living  in  the 
gloom  of  an  obscured  sky,  or  in  the  brightness  of  an 
unclouded  firmament,  the  days,  months,  and  years 
roll  on,  and,  ere  we  are  aware,  we  find  ourselves  past 
the  noontide  of  life  and  our  faces  toward  the  setting 
sun.  Happy  is  it  for  us,  when  the  threads  of  silver 
begin  to  show  themselves  in  the  dark  tresses  that 
have  adorned  our  temples,  if  we  can  look  back  on  a 
life  of  usefulness,  activity,  and  kindly  deeds  toward 
our  fellows.  The  joy  of  doing  good  will  efface  from 
our  memory  the  sorrows  and  woes  of  earlier  days,  or 
leave  with  their  remembrance  that  hallowed  and 
chastened  sorrow  which  is  compatible  with  the  deep- 
est and  purest  enjoyment,  or,  as  Moore  has  so  beauti- 
fully sung — 

"  E'en  sorrow,  touched  by  thee,  grows  bright 

With  more  than  rapture's  ray; 
As  darkness  shows  us  worlds  of  light 
We  never  saw  by  day." 


512 

Sucli  had  been  the  experience  of  our  friends,  Wal- 
ter and  Minnie  Braytoh.  Some  years  after  the  events 
related  in  the  preceding  chapter,  they  had  removed  to 
the  vicinity  of  Hillsboro,  Ohio,  and  in  a  pleasant 
rural  home  they  were  striving  to  rear  up  their  family 
m  the  fear  of  God  and  the  practice  of  all  Christian 
virtues.  Walter  was  now  a  man  of  influence,  and, 
though  not  affluent,  was  yet  the  owner  of  a  good 
estate.  He  was  an  elder  in  the  Presbyterian  Church, 
and  bore  a  high  reputation  for  piety  and  earnest 
Christian  character.  Minnie,  now  known  only  as  Mrs. 
Brayton,  except  to  her  husband,  who  could  never  be 
satisfied  with  any  other  than  the  pet  name  by  which 
he  had  known  her  in  girlhood,  was  a  rather  grave, 
matronly  lady;  but  the  occasional  cheery  laugh,  and 
the  bright  twinkle  of  her  yet  beautiful  eyes,  showed 
that  the  sorrows  of  her  youth  had  not  drowned  all 
her  natural  joyousness,  and  that  she  did  not  consider 
it  necessary  to  be  gloomy  in  order  to  be  good.  Five 
children  surrounded  the  family  board — olive-plants 
their  father  called  them,  though  their  complexions 
had  very  little  of  the  olive  tint.  Of  these,  the  oldest, 
Henry  Howard  Brayton,  who  has  already  been  intro- 
duced, is  now  a  fine,  stalwart  young  man  of  twenty- 
two,  intelligent  and  cultured,  and  is  soon  to  enter  the 
ministry,  for  which  he  has  been  preparing  for  some 
years.  Ida  Maria,  who  comes  next,  is  a  young  lady  now 
in  her  twentieth  year — a  brave,  generous-hearted  girl, 
with  all  her  mother's  early  enthusiasm,  and  uniting 
to  deep  piety  a  well-trained  mind  and  a  joyous,  buoy- 
ant spirit.  She  has  had  the  advantage  of  a  full 


THE  WOMEN'S  CRUSADE.  513 

course  of  training  in  the  Elmira  Female  College, 
where  she  had  for  an  intimate  friend  and  room-mate 
Carrie  Hudson,  the  only  daughter  of  our  old  friend, 
Mortimer  Hudson,  Jr. ;  a  young  lady  of  excellent 
mind  and  heart. 

Freddie,  wha  is  the  next  in  age,  is  an  active  and 
amiable  boy  of  sixteen,  who  spends  his  winters  in 
school,  but,  having  a  great  love  for  farming  life,  is 
becoming  a  valuable  helper  of  his  father  on  the  farm. 
Nellie,  just  turned  of  thirteen,  and  Wee  Willie,  the 
baby,  though  now  eight  years  old,  and  rejoicing  in 
boots,  which  he  wears  over  his  trousers,  make  up  the 
household  circle.  It  had  been  one  object  with  Wal- 
ter Brayton,  in  removing  to  Ohio,  to  separate  himself 
and  his  interesting  family  as  far  as  possible  from  all 
association  with  persons  and  scenes  which  were  con- 
stantly reminding  him  and  his  wife  of  the  sorrowful 
scenes  through  which  they  had  passed.  Over  and 
over  again  there  came  up  the  remembrance  of  those 
dreadful  hours  in  prison ;  of  the  ruin  which  the  rum- 
fiend  had  wrought  among  those  nearest  and  dearest 
to  them ;  of  the  violent  death  of  Walter's  father,  and 
the  distressing  close  of  Mr.  Hermon's  career ;  and  of 
the  narrow  escape  which  Walter  himself  had  had 
from  becoming  as  degraded  a  drunkard  as  any  of  the 
rest.  There  would  come  over  them  both  at  times, 
also,  the  terrible  fear  lest  the  inherited  appetite  for 
drink  which,  as  is  well  known,  so  often  skips  over 
one  generation  to  make  itself  felt  with  greater  power 
in  the  next,  should  re-appear  in  their  children. 

The  reminiscences  of  the  pusc,  which  thus  made  life 


514:  MINNIE   HERMOff. 

bitter,  could  have  been  endured  with  more  patience, 
had  there  been  in  Oakvale  any  considerable  measure 
of  permanent  improvement  in  the  matter  of  temper- 
ance. But,  as  has  been  the  case  in  many  other  places, 
the  reformation  was  spasmodic  in  its  character;  now 
advancing .  apparently  with  rapid  strides,  and  then 
receding  almost  to  the  low-watermark-  of  the  old 
times.  .  The  Sons  of  Temperance  had,  as  WB  have 
seen,  made  considerable  progress,  and  had  secured 
many  members  to  their  Order;  and  the  passage  of 
the  Maine  Law,  while  they  were  in  the  height  of 
their  popularity,  had  produced  for  a  tune  grand 
results.  But,  unfortunately,  these  were  not  enduring ; 
the  novelty  wore  off,  and  enthusiasm  in  regard  to 
the  Order,  gave  place  to  indifference,  until  very 
many  of  the  Sons  of  Temperance  became  rather 
Sons  of  Intemperance — seven-tenths  of  them,  accord- 
ing to  Dr.  Chambers'  statement,  having  broken  the 
pledge.  The  Maine  Law  was  not  enforced,  and  it 
was  claimed  could  not  be,  in  the  larger  towns,  and 
the  friends  of  Temperance  having  grown  cold  in 
their  zeal,  the  law  was  repealed  after  four  or  five 
years  of  trial.  It  was  inexpressibly  painful  to  Wal- 
ter Bray  ton  and  his  wife  to  see  those  "breathing 
holes  of  hell,"  as  Dr.  Lyman  Beecher  so  forcibly 
described  them,  again  open  and  sending  out  the 
fumes  of  these  poisonous  liquors,  to  draw  unwary 
souls  down  to  destruction.  So  long  as  it  was  possi- 
ble to  enforce  the  law  and  keep  them  closed,  Walter 
was  indefatigable  in  his  efforts  to  prevent  this  traffic 
in  souls ;  but  when  this  became  impossible,  in  conse- 


THE  WOMEN'S  CRUSADE.  515 

qnence  of  the  repeal  of  the  Maine  Law,  he  felt  almost 
disheartened.  There  was,  however,  one  organiza- 
tion from  which,  for  a  time,  he  entertained  some 
hopes  of  good.  It  was  the  Independent  Order  of 
Good  Templars,  like  the  Sons  of  Temperance  a 
secret  order,  but  admitting  both  sexes  to  membership. 
Originating  in  Onondaga  County,  N".  Y.,  in  1852,  it 
had  spread  at  first  slowly,  and  afterward  more  rapidly 
into  other  States  and  Territories,  and  into  the  pro- 
vinces of  British  America.  Its  imposing  ritual,  and 
the  energy  with  which  it  was  pushed,  as  well  as  its 
features  of  female  membership,  and  its  permission  of 
official  position  to  its  lady-members,  gave  it  a  high 
degree  of  popularity  for  a  time,  and  it  seemed  to  bid 
fair  to  be  a  powerful  agency  for  the  overthrow  of 
intemperance.  Its  history,  however,  proved  to  be 
one  of  great  fluctuations.  There  were  noble,  ear- 
nest spirits  engaged  in  it,  but  there  were  also,  as  is 
so  often  the  case  in  secret  organizations,  many  who 
were  only  attracted  to  it  as  something  new,  and  who 
either  imperiled  the  subordinate  Lodges  with  which 
they  were  connected  by  their  jealousies  and  rivalries, 
or,  becoming  indifferent  as  soon  as  the  novelty  wore 
off,  abandoned  alike  their  obligations  and  their  mem- 
bership. This  was  particularly  the  case  in  New 
York,  Pennsylvania  and  Ohio.  In  the  first  named 
State  there  was  a  membership  in  1854  of  21,000,  but 
four  years  later  there  was  but  a  single  lodge  in  exist- 
ence, and  this  had  but  a  handful  of  members.  It 
subsequently  regained  more  than  its  first  prosperity, 
and  has  now  nearly  100,000  members  in  that  State. 


516  MINNIE   HERMON. 

Walter  Erajton  had  joined  it  as  soon  as  oppor- 
tunity offered,  and  had  been  Grand  Worthy  Templar 
of  the  Lodge  in  Oakvale;  he  had  also  brought  his 
children  into  it  as  soon  as  they  were  of  sufficient  age 
to  comprehend  its  obligations.  But  when  all  interest 
seemed  to  be  lost  by  the  members,  and  it  was  impos- 
sible to  bring  together  a  quorum  at  the  appointed 
Lodge  meetings,  and  a  similar  state  of  things  existed 
throughout  the  State,  while,  under  the  excitement  of 
tiie  beginning  of  the  war,  thousands  of  pledged  Good 
Templars  forgot  their  vows,  plunging  into  intoxica- 
tion without  hesitation  or  apparent  consciousness  of 
wrong,  he  felt  that  this  measure,  like  the  previous 
ones  for  subduing  this  giant  evil,  was  of  no  avail,  and 
the  old  dread  of  a  renewal  of  the  scenes  of  the  past, 
and  those  painful  apprehensions  for  the  future  of  his 
children,  if  they  remained  in  Oakvale  or  its  vicinity, 
were  renewed  with  such  intensity  as  to  make  both 
Walter  and  his  wife  at  times  exceedingly  wretched. 
Often  did  they  consult  together  in  regard  to  the  best 
course  to  adopt  to  avoid  the  evils  and  sorrows  whose 
dark  wings  seemed  already  to  overshadow  them. 
Thus  far  their  children  had  never  had  the  slightest 
intimation  of  the  wretchedness  and  agony  of  the  early 
life  of  their  parents,  and  they  hoped  almost  against 
hope  to  keep  from  them  all  knowledge  of  the  bitter 
past. 

The  hope  was  vain ;  it  was  now  the  second  year 
of  the  war,  when  one  Wednesday  morning,  Harry,  a 
bright,  manly,  interesting  boy  of  teu  years  old,  had, 
as  usual,  been  to  school,  but  came  running  home,  and 


THE  WOMEN'S  CKUSADE.  517 

rushing  to  his  mother,  the  tears  rolling  down  his 
cheeks,  sobbed  out,  "  Oh,  mother !  it  isn't  true,  is  it  ? 
Jerry  Lane  got  mad  at  me  to-day,  and  he  said — he 
said,  'You  needn't  feel  so  big,  Hal  Brayton,  your 
old  granddad  was  a  drunken  old  scamp,  and  he 
helped  murder  a  man — so  there.'  I  told  him  that 
was  a  lie,  but  he  said  it  was  true,  and  everybody  here 
knew  it.  Oh,  mother !  tell  me  that  it  isn't  true — I 
can't  go  to  school  any  more,  if  it  is !" 

Poor  Minnie!  her  cup  was  full  to  overflowing. 
She  managed  to  evade  any  direct  reply  to  Harry's 
appeal,  and  rushed  to  her  room,  where  soon  after 
Walter  found  her  in  a  perfect  agony  of -tears.  "  Oh, 
"Walter,"  she  said,  so  soon  as  she  could  command  her 
feelings  sufficiently  to  speak,  "  we  cannot  stay  here. 
"We  must  remove  to  some  place  far  enough  from  this- 
point  to  prevent  our  children  from  being  taunted 
with  these  horrible  crimes  and  sorrows  of  the  past. 
Let  us  go  anywhere,  and  at  any  sacrifice,  to  blot  out 
these  dreadful  memories.  In  another  State,  where 
we  shall  be  among  strangers,  we  may  be  happy,  and 
our  children  never  know  such  anguish  as  we  have 
experienced." 


CHAPTER  XXXYII. 

TWENTY   YEARS    LATEE REMOVAL    OF   MINNIE   AND 

WALTER  TO  OHIO THE  PREVALENCE  OF  INTEMPER- 
ANCE  THERE — HOW  IS   IT   TO  BE  RESISTED? THE 

WOMEN'S  CRUSADE — IDA'S  LETTER  TO  CARRIE  HUDSON. 

WALTER  was  very  willing  to  follow  suggestions  so 
evidently  judicious;  and,  after  some  inquiry,  they 
fixed  upon  the  Ohio  village,  where  we  now  find  them, 
as  their  future  home. 

The  village  had,  on  their  first  removal  thither,  but 
a  small  population,  and  these  largely  farmers ;  but  a 
branch  railway  from  the  Marietta  road  to  Hillsboro 
was  soon  constructed,  and  they  were  put  in  direct 
communication  with  Cincinnati.  The  growth  of  the 
village  now  became  ragid,  and  it  was  soon  reckoned 
as  a  part  of  Hillsboro,  in  which  township  it  lay. 
Like  many  of  the  farming  towns  of  Ohio,  corn  and 
rye  were  the  principal  crops,  and  with  too  many  of 
the  farmers  the  temptation  to  sell  their  grain  to  the 
distillers  was  too  strong  to  be  resisted.  Against  this, 
Walter  Brayton  had  maintained  a  firm  and  steady 
opposition.  He  had  seen  too  much  of  the  horrible 
results  of  the  liquor  traffic  to  be  willing  to  aid  in  any 
way  in  the  production  of  the  vile  liquid.  At  first, 
and  for  some  years,  his  course  brought  upon  him 
the  enmity  of  his  neighbors,  who  had  no  scruples  in 
turning  wholesome  grain  into  a  virulent  poison.  He 
was  called  a  Pharisee,  and  several  times  threatened 
for  his  manly  and  consistent  course.  But  as  time 
passed,  and  the  farms  of  these  men  grew  poorer  each 


THE  WOMEN'S  CRUSADE.  519 

year,  and  their  sons  became  addicted  to  drink,  the 
wiser  and  more  prudent  citizens  began  to  see  that  his 
course  was  the  true  one,  and  he  stood  higher  in  their 
esteem  than  any  other  man  in  the  town. 

But  these  came  to  him  and  his  estimable  wife  at 
this  time  the  renewal  of  their  old  fears,  from  the 
rapid  spread  of  intemperance  in  Hillsboro  and  the 
adjacent  towns.  Their  own  children  were  indeed 
spared  thus  far  from  the  appetite  for  liquor.  Harry 
was  a  young  man  of  exemplary  life,  and  of  remark- 
ably pure  and  devoted  piety ;  and  Freddie  manifested 
no  taste  for  liquor,  and  had  been  a  member  of  the 
Good  Templars  ever  since  he  was  old  enough  to  be 
received  into  the  order.  Ida  and  Nellie  were  equally 
free  from  any  desire  for  strong  drink  in  any  form. 
Relatives  they  had  none  in  Jkit  region ;  and,  except 
an  occasional  visit  from  Dr.  Howard  and  Alfred 
Snyder,  Minnie's  uncle — now  no  longer  called  "  Crazy 
Alf ,"  but  an  active,  stern,  and  somewhat  sad-visaged. 
temperance  reformer — they  had  no  communication 
with  Oak  vale  or  its  vicinity. 

"Why,  then,  should  they  feel  so  deeply  and  keenly 
anxious  in  regard  to  the  spread  of  intemperance 
around  them  ?  It  was  because  they  had  themselves 
experienced  so  much  sorrow  from  it.  The  iron  had 
entered  their  own  souls  ;  and,  as  they  saw  young  men 
of  great  promise  lured  to  drink  the  intoxicating  cup, 
and  young  women,  full  of  gayety,  life  and  animation, 
offering  it  to  their  brothers  and  lovers,  they  looked 
back  shuddermgly  to  the  fearful  scenes  they  had  wit- 
nessed, and  felt  that  something  must  be  done  to  save 


520  MINNIE   HEEMON. 

these  young  men  from  a  drunkard's  grave  and  a 
drunkard's  eternity.  What  was  the  best  and  wisest 
step  to  take  ?  How  could  they  most  effectually  reach 
and  save  those  who  were  thus  being  led,  blindfolded, 
to  destruction  ? 

"  I  have  been  talking  with  our  pastor  and  the  ses- 
sion, to-day,  about  the  terrible  spread  of  intemper- 
ance," said  Walter  one  day  to  his  wife,  on  his  return 
from  Hillsboro,  "  but  I  cannot  make  them  see  it  as  I 
do.  Our  pastor  proposed  to  have  a  day  of  fasting 
and  prayer  especially  for  the  reformation  of  moderate 
drinkers  and  drunkards,  and  he  was  right ;  but  Elder 

and  Deacon ,  both  of  whom  have  sons  who 

are  going  to  destruction  as  fast  as  they  can,  couldn't 
see  any  use  in  it.  They  thought  young  people  would 
be  gay  and  lively,  butj^iey  didn't  see  any  harm  in  it. 
I  told  them  that  there  was  no  safety  for  any  man 
who  took  a  drop  of  the  vile  stuff;  but  they  only 
'laughed,  and  said  'Brother  Brayton  is  a  little  fanat- 
ical.' Oh !  I  wish  I  could  make  them  see  the  hor- 
rors that  are  sure  to  come  to  their  own  homes,  if  their 
sons  keep  on  drinking.  They  would  wake  up  then, 
and  their  hair  would  stand  on  end  with  fright ! " 

"  I  think,"  said  Mrs.  Brayton,  "  that  there  is  but 
one  resource  for  us  just  now,  and  that  is  in  earnest 
and  persistent  prayer ;  prayer  that  God  will  convert 
our  Legislature,  and  make  them  willing  to  enact 
laws  by  which  this  traffic  can  be  prevented ;  prayer 
for  the  rum-sellers  and  dealers  in  intoxicating  drinks, 
that  they  may  be  compelled  by  their  own  consciences 
and  the  pressure  of  public  sentiment  to  give  up  the 


THE  WOMEN'S  CETTSADE.  521 

business  •  prayer  for  these  careless  and  over-indulgent 
fathers  /md  mothers,  that  they  may  see  the  dreadful 
results  of  their  indifference;  and  especially  prayer 
for  the  young,  that  they  may  be  delivered  from 
temptation." 

"  You  are  right,  my  dear  Minnie,"  replied  her  hus- 
band ;  "  and  I  believe  that  you  and  some  of  our  other 
good  sisters  have  been  praying  for  the  Legislature  to 
some  purpose  already,  for  I  heard  to-day  that  the 
Adair  bill,  which,  you  know,  is  for  a  local  option  law 
that  will  enable  us  to  close  up  the  grog-shops  if  we 
can  get  public  opinion  roused,  is  likely  to  pass." 

"  There  will  be  more  need  of  praying  than  ever  in 
that  case,"  was  Mrs.  Brayton's  reply.  "  There  will 
be  no  necessity  for  resorting  to  force  if  we  can  only 
reach  the  hearts  of  the  rum-eellers  by  the  power  of 
faith  and  love." 

"  But,  my  dear,"  said  Walter,  "  are  you  not  reckon- 
ing too  much  on  the  power  of  faith  and  love,  in  ex- 
pecting that  the  hearts  of  rum-sellers  can  be  moved 
by  anything  short  of  force?  Why,  most  of  them 
have  no  conscience  and  no  feeling  :  they  will  never 
give  up  their  vile  traffic  unless  they  are  compelled  to 
do  so  by  the  strong  arm  of  the  law." 

"  Dear  Walter,"  said  Mrs.  Brayton,  with  the  tears 
glistening  in  her  eyes,  "  have  you  forgotten  that  faith 
can  remove  mountains  ? — that  the  prayer  of  faith 
moves  the  hand  that  moves  the  world  ?  Have  you 
forgotten — but,  no !  neither  you  nor  I  can  ever  for- 
get, what  faith  and  prayer  did  for  us.  God  can 
move  the  hearts  of  these  poor,  sinful  wretches,  who 


522  MESTXIE   HEEMON. 

are  dealing  out  death  just  as  easily  as  He  has  moved 
upon  other  hearts  in  the  past." 

"  Well,"  said  Walter,  "  I  think  you  are  right ;  and 
if  there  are  more  women  with  as  much  faith  as  you 
have,  you  had  better  have  a  prayer-meeting  of  the 
women  of  Hillsboro,  to  try  the  effect  of  prayer  on 
these  hardened  rum-sellers.  I  think  there  are  some 
of  the  men  in  the  different  churches  who  will  be 
willing  to  unite  in  praying  for  you,  while  you  have 
your  meeting,  and  in  sustaining  you  in  your  further 
efforts,  should  you  need  their  help." 

Walter  was  thoroughly  in  earnest  in  this  move- 
ment, and  he  saw  that  his  wife  was  equally  so.  He 
called  upon  a  number  of  the  most  devoted  and  ear- 
nest men  in  the  different  congregations  in  Hillsboro, 
and  his  wife  did  the  same  among  the  ladies,  and  the 
next  week  it  was  announced  that  there  would  be  a 
ladies'  prayer-meeting  at  one  of  the  churches  on 
Wednesday  of  the  following  week,  to  pray  especially 
for  the  overthrow  of  intemperance,  and  that,  at  the 
same  time,  there  would  be  a  meeting  in  another 
church  of  Christian  men,  to  pray  for  God's  guidance 
of  the  women  in  their  efforts  to  overthrow  this  great 
evil.  The  notices  were  given  in  all  the  churches,  and 
the  matter  was  discussed  throughout  the  town.  To 
the  surprise  of  many,  both  meetings  were  largely  at- 
tended ;  and  such  was  the  influence  which  pervaded 
them,  that  even  the  rum-sellers  began  to  talk  with 
bated  breath  about  the  prospects  of  a  temperance  re- 
vival. The  women's  meeting,  at  which  Mrs.  Bray- 
ton  presided,  was  quiet  and  orderly,  but  was  marked 


THE  WOMEN'S  CRUSADE.  523 

by  deep  feeling,  and  its  key-note  seemed  to  have  been 
struck  when  Mrs.  Brayton,  in  a  few  thoughtful,  well- 
considered  words,  said  "  that  the  object  for  which 
they  were  especially  called  to  pray  at  this  time  was, 
that  God  would  so  soften  the  hearts  of  the  dealers  in 
intoxicating  liquors,  that  they  might  see  the  wicked 
ness  of  the  traffic  and  be  persuaded  to  abandon  it 
forever."  A  daughter  of  Ex-Governor  Trimble,  of 
Ohio,  made  the  first  prayer,  and  remained  ever  after 
one  of  the  most  zealous  workers  in  the  cause.  The 
whole  audience  became  greatly  interested,  and  the 
inquiry  passed  from  lip  to  lip,  "  Is  there  not  some- 
thing that  we  can  do  to  put  a  stop  to  this  traffic  m 
the  souls  and  bodies  of  men?"  Another  meeting 
was  appointed  for  the  next  day,  Mrs.  Brayton  urging 
all  present  to  be  persistent  in  both  prayer  and  effort, 
and  not  to  cease  their  toils  till  the  good  work  was 
accomplished. 

The  meeting  of  the  men  at  the  same  hour  was  also 
interesting,  and  evinced  a  strong  and  earnest  purpose 
on  the  part  of  the  best  citizens  of  the  town  to  arrest 
the  progress  of  intemperance  by  such  means  as  should 
seem  to  be  best.  The  liquor-selling  interest  was 
strong  in  numbers  in  Hillsboro.  and  had  considerable 

o  f 

wealth  at  its  back,  and  the  people  who  were  selling 
their  grain  to  the  distillers  were  not  inclined  to  favor 
any  movement  which  would  diminish  this  demand  for 
their  grain.  There  were,  moreover,  as  there  are  in 
all  such  places,  a  considerable  number  of  the  more 
respectable  citizens,  who,  while  they  admitted  in  the 
abstract  the  evils  of  the  sale  and  use  of  intoxicating 


524  MINNIE    HERMON. 

drinks,  were  unwilling  to  take  any  active  steps  to  stop 
it.  "  They  liked  a  glass  of  wine  occasionally  them- 
selves ;  cider  was  a  very  pleasant  drink,  and  ale  and 
beer  were  necessary  occasionally ;  then,  too,  the  liquor 
dealers  were,  some  of  them,  very  pleasant  fellows, 
and  had  interesting  families  ;  they  did  not  like  to  of- 
fend them — but,  as  for  these  low  grog-shops,  they  did 
not  care  how  soon  they  were  put  down.  As  to  the 
druggists,  most  of  whom  sold  liquors  by  the  glass  to 
genteel  customers,  it  would  be  positively  wrong  to 
their  patrons  to  compel  them  to  give  up  this  part  of 
their  business,  as  it  was  well  known  that  people  might 
need  brandy  or  whiskey  or  rum  for  a  medicine,  when 
it  was  not  convenient  to  get  a  physician's  prescription 
for  it." 

To  these  respectable  allies  of  the  rum-seller  Mr. 
Brayton  and  his  friends  endeavored  to  show  the  hor- 
rible results  of  the  traffic,  and  pushed  home  the  ques- 
tion, "  If  your  son  or  daughter  had  acquired  a  taste 
for  liquor,  and  could  gratify  it  by  a  resort  to  these 
drag  stores  and  genteel  liquor  stores,  would  you  not 
feel  that  there  should  be  some  means  of  preventing 
them  from  obtaining  it  so  readily?"  "Well,  yes; 
but  then  my  sons  and  daughters  are  not  fond  of 
drink."  "  Perhaps  not,"  replied  Mr.  Brayton ;  "  but 
somebody's  sons  and  daughters  are,  and  the  moral  law 
requires  you  to  love  your  neighbor  as  yourself." 

There  was  much  of  this  discussion  going  on  in 
Hillsboro  for  several  days,  and,  as  a  result  of  the  sue 
cessive  meetings,  the  women  were  wrought  up  to  the 
conviction  that  some  mode  of  appeal,  directly  to  the 


THE  WOMEN'S   CKUSADE.  525 

liquor  dealers,  must  be  adopted  and  enforced  in 
such  a  way  as  to  produce  a  salutary  effect.  Just  at 
this  time,  about  the  20th  of  December,  1873 — and 
We  are  particular  in  regard  to  our  dates  here,  because 
these  are  events  of  history  which  we  are  recording — 
Dr.  Dio  Lewis,  a  well-known  lecturer  and  reformer, 
addressed  the  Hillsboro  Lyceum ;  and,  at  the  close  of 
his  lecture,  having  already  seen  how  deeply  the  peo- 
ple were  interested  in  the  question  of  temperance, 
offered  to  deliver  a  free  temperance  lecture  there. 
His  offer  was  gratefully  accepted,  and  the  largest 
church  in  the  town  crowded.  Dr.  Lewis  is  a  man 
of  great  ability  as  an  organizer,  and  on  this  oc- 
casion he  proposed  to  the  women  of  Hillsboro  the 
formation  of  a  Temperance  League,  and  suggested 
the  following  plan,  which  was  substantially  that  pur- 
sued subsequently  all  over  Ohio  and  in  other  States. 
He  regarded  it  as  absolutely  necessaiy  that  they 
should  have  one  or  two  pubh'c  meetings,  or  more,  if 
they  chose,  with  the  pastors  of  the  various  churches 
on  the  platform,  and  that  the  public  sentiment  of  the 
best  part  of  the  community  should  be  aroused  and 
arrayed  against  the  traffic ;  that  the  men  should  be 
prepared  to  sustain  the  women  in  their  efforts  by 
prayers,  moral  support,  and  pecuniary  aid  to  any  ex- 
tent that  might  be  necessary ;  that  committees — if 
possible,  of  volunteers — of  the  very  best  women  in 
the  town,  should  be  appointed  by  the  Temperance 
League  to  go  to  the  keepers  of  drinking-saloons,  ho- 
tels, drag  stores,  etc.,  taking  with  them  forms  of 
pledges  adapted  to  their  several  cases,  previously 


526  MINNIE   HERMON. 

drawn  up,  pledging  them  to  cease  retailing  liquor  for 
a  beverage,  and  that  these  committees  of  three,  four, 
or  six  ladies  should  courteously  request  them  to  sign 
these  pledges  and  stop  selling  liquor.  If  they  com- 
plied with  the  request  and  carried  out  the  pledge  in 
good  faith,  the  end  desired  would  be  obtained.  If 
they  refused,  the  women  were  to  endeavor  to  per- 
suade them  by  exhortation  and  urgent  pleading ;  and, 
failing  in  this,  to  ask  permission  to  sing  and  pray  in 
the  saloon,  store,  or  hotel,  and  to  continue  this  by  re- 
lays of  committees,  offering  the  pledge  to  all  who 
came  as  well  as  to  the  proprietor.  In  some  instances 
it  might  be  necessary  to  keep  up  a  siege  on  these 
places  from  morning  till  night,  and  perhaps  from  daj 
to  day,  but  eventually  the  power  of  faith,  prayer,  and 
earnest  work  would  be  seen  in  the  surrender  even  of 
the  most  obdurate.  This  plan  was  very  heartily  ap- 
proved^ and,  on  the  23d  of  December,  the  League 
was  formed  and  work  commenced  in  earnest.  Dr. 
Lewis  proceeded  from  Hillsboro  to  Washington  C.  EL, 
Fayette  Co.,  about  twenty-five  miles  distant,  where 
he  found  a  similar  state  of  preparation,  and,  on  the 
25th  of  December,  inaugurated  a  similar  work.  From 
these  two  points  this  great  temperance  movement, 
which  has  since  spread  over  the  entire  land,  took  its 
first  departure.  Dr.  Lewis  was  called  further  West 
by  his  engagements,  but,  early  in  February,  returned 
to  Ohio,  and  rendered  valuable  assistance  in  extend- 
ing the  work  for  about  three  weeks. 

The  success  of  the  movement  was  greatest  in  the 
Einaller  towns  and  villages.     In  the  larger  cities  the 


THE  WOMEN'S  CEUSADE.  527 

opposition  was  so  great,  and  the  measures  adopted  by 
the  liquor  dealers  to  defend  their  traffic  so  violent, 
or  so  crafty,  that  many  of  the  women  shrunk  from 
encountering  the  insults  to  which  they  were  sub- 
jected. Still,  even  in  these  places  much  good  was 
accomplished  ;  many  were  led  to  abandon  the  traffic, 
and  thousands  signed  the  pledge.  But  in  most  of  the 
smaller  towns  and  villages,  where  there  were  from 
ten  to  sixty  liquor  saloons,  the  traffic  was  by  per- 
sistent effort  entirely  broken  up.  At  no  point  among 
these  were  there  more  difficulties  encountered,  or 
more  patient  labor  bestowed,  than  in  Hillsboro. 
The  town  had  a  population  of  from  3,500  to  4,000, 
and  more  than  thirty  places  in  which  liquor  was  sold. 
The  first  month's  labor  reduced  these  to  five  or  six ; 
but  some  of  these  were  very  obstinate.  One  drug- 
gist, before  whose  place  the  women  had  set  up  theii 
tent  or  tabernacle,  and  had  held  daily  meetings  f  01 
weeks,  procured  an  injunction — which  was  served  on 
one  hundred  and  sixty-eight  persons,  against  their 
holding  these  meetings — and  commenced  a  suit,  lay- 
ing his  damages  at  $10,000  for  the  interruption  to  his 
business.  The  excitement  was  so  great  that  the  venue 
was  changed  to  another  county,  but  he  was  finally 
defeated  and  relinquished  the  sale,  and  at  the  end  of 
three  months  the  entire  traffic  in  liquor  ceased  there. 
In  "Washington,  Fayette  Co.,  the  other  starting-point 
of  this  new  departure,  the  struggle  was  not  so  long  ; 
there  were  not  so  many  stores,  and  all  were  car- 
ried within  a  month — and  those  out  of  the  corpora- 
tion limits  not  long  after.  The  good  work  spread 


528  MINNIE   HEEMON. 

not  only  over  all  the  State,  but  into  Indiana,  Illinois, 
Pennsylvania,  Kentucky,  Tennessee,  New  York,  and 
the  New  England  States.  In  Ohio,  by  the  24th  of 
February,  it  was  reported  tliat  336  diiuking  saloons 
had  been  closed,  and  the  business  of  nearly  as  many 
more  completely  broken  up ;  that  more  than  20,000 
names  had  been  signed  to  the  pledge.  At  that  date 
a  convention  was  held  at  Columbus,  and  a  State  Wo- 
man's Temperance  League  organized.  Subsequent 
reports  showed  a  great  increase,  both  in  the  number 
of  saloons  closed  and  in  the  signers  of  the  pledge. 

We  need  not  say  that,  in  this  great  movement,  both 
Walter  and  Mrs.  Brayton  were  efficient  and  patient 
workers.  Mrs.  Brayton,  from  constitutional  diffi- 
dence, did  not  seek  to  become  a  leader ;  but  she  gave 
herself  up  to  the  work,  and  was  often  compelled  to 
lead  when  she  would  have  preferred  a  humbler  posi- 
tion. But  we  shall  best  show  what  she  did  accom- 
plish, by  allowing  Ida  Brayton  to  tell,  in  a  letter  to 
her  friend,  Carrie  Hudson,  the  story  of  this  temper- 
ance crusade,  and  of  her  mother's  part  in  it. 

HILLSBOKO,  March  — ,  1874. 

MY  DEAR  CARRIE:  —  Is  it  possible  that  nearly 
three  months  have  elapsed  since  the  date  of  my  last, 
when  hitherto  I  have  been  the  most  punctual  of  cor- 
respondents ?  To  me  the  time  has  seemed  incredibly 
short,  as  it  always  does  when  one  is  unusually  busy. 
Shall  I  tell  you  what  it  is  that  has  so  absorbed  my 
thoughts  and  attention — that,  for  the  nonce,  even  my 
dearest  Carrie  has  been  almost  forgotten  ? 


THE  WOMEN'S  CRUSADE.  531 

You  have  seen  accounts  in  the  papers  of  the  Tem- 
perance Movement,  or  rather,  Woman's  Temperance 
Movement,  as  it  is  termed,  and  may  at  first  be  some- 
what surprised,  to  learn  that  your  "  quiet  little  puss," 
as  you  used  so  persistently  to  call  me  in  our  school- 
life,  is  engaged  heart  and  soul  in  the  work.  Don't 
start — I  have  grown  neither  bold  nor  boisterous,  but 
only  terribly  in  earnest  in  this  over-mastering  desire 
to  have  some  little  part  in  helping  to  stay  the  tide  of 
woe  which  is  sweeping  over  our  beloved  land.  You 
know  that  my  sweet  mother  is  always  foremost  in 
every  good  work,  but  into  this  she  throws  her  whole 
soul.  Father  not  only  fully  approves  of  her  course, 
but  is  her  counsellor  and  support  in  all  that  she  does. 
They  are  always  so  thoroughly  united  in  their  views 
and  feelings,  that  it  is  no  more  than  I  would  expect ; 
but,  you  know,  there  are  many  men  who,  through 
false  pride,  object  to  their  wives  taking  a  prominent 
stand  in  any  public  movement.  My  own  espousal  of 
the  cause  was  very  sudden.  I  had  been  out  of  town 
for  a  visit  of  several  days,  and,  upon  my  return 
home,  entered  mother's  room  unannounced,  thinking 
to  take  her  by  surprise.  I  found  her  in  earnest  con- 
versation with  father,  and  as  she  turned  toward  me, 
the  glow  upon  her  countenance  gave  it  an  almost 
heavenly  beauty.  "  What  good  thing  has  happened  ? " 
I  exclaimed ;  and,  as  soon  as  the  kisses  of  welcome 
had  been  received,  I  was  informed  of  the  new  move- 
ment just  inaugurated.  "  Your  mother  has  found 
her  mission,"  said  father,  his  voice  trembling  with 
feeling,  "  and  I  am  persuaded  that  she  has  put  her 
22 


532  MINNIE   HEKMON. 

hand  to  a  great  and  mighty  work."  "  Ton  know, 
Walter,"  was  the  quiet  reply,  "I  must  i^wrk  as 
well  as  pray."  Do  you  wonder,  Carrie  dear,  that 
catching  the  inspiration,  I  placed  my  hand  in  hers, 
saying  :  "  Please  let  me  work  with  you,  mother ; " 
and  so  we  have  gone,  hand  in  hand,  from  that  tune, 
though,  as  you  will  readily  believe,  her  zeal  is  more 
wide-awake  and  enduring  than  mine.  Repeatedly 
I  have  been  aroused  from  sleep  by  the  pressure  of 
her  lips  upon  my  forehead  before  daylight,  hurrying 
me  to  an  early  breakfast,  and  then  to  the  morning 
prayer-meeting  as  a  preparation  for  the  round  of 
saloon-visiting  during  the  day.  You-  may  depend 
upon  one  thing,  I  do  not  tarry  long  at  the  toilet,  over 
my  back-hair,  in  these  days.  There  is  no  time  for 
any  fooling  with  fashions.  And  yet,  Carrie  dear, 
this  "  Crusade,"  as  they  term  it,  is  not  all  poetry,  by 
any  means.  *  There  is,  oh,  so  much  that  would  damp- 
en one's  ardor  in  a  less  vital  cause !  Kevilings  and 
curses  from  the  low  and  degraded ;  threats  which  al- 
most make  the  blood  curdle  in  one's  veins ;  and, 
sometimes,  even  water  and  beer  thrown  upon  us  as 
we  are  bowed  in  prayer.  It  is  so  dreadful,  too,  to  be 
surrounded  by  a  disgraceful  rabble,  that  often  my 
very  limbs  have  trembled  beneath  me,  and  I  should 
have  fallen  in  the  way,  had  not  mother's  courage  and 
strength  held  me  up.  There  is  strength,  also,  in  the 
thought  that  we  are  battling  for  human  life,  and 
more  than  all,  to  save  souls  from  death  ;  and  so  it  is 
that  neither  drenching  rain,  driving  snow,  or  bitter 
cold  has  power  to  quench  our  ardor.  Upon  one  oc- 


THE  WOMEN'S  CRUSADE.  533 

casion  the  excitement  here  ran  fearfully  high.  A 
tabernacle  had  been  erected  for  our  use  before  the 
store  of  a  druggist  who  persisted  in  selling  liquor  by 
the  glass.  In  his  anger  he  got  out  an  injunction 
against  168  ladies,  in  which  number  mother  and  my- 
self were  included,  for  interfering  with  his  business, 
laying  his  damages  at  $10,000.  The  turmoil  was  so 
great,  that  it  became  necessary  to  remove  the  trial 
to  another  county.  He  was  defeated,  however,  and 
subsequently  came  over  to  the  right  side. 

You  have  heard  of  Dr.  Lewis ;  but,  unless  you 
have  sat  under  one  of  his  thrilling  appeals  in  behalf 
of  the  cause,  you  can  have  no  idea  of  his  power  as 
a  speaker.  Many  of  the  most  bitter  opposers  of  tem- 
perance were  melted  down  under  his  eloquence,  and 
have  come  out  fully  as  firm  and  strong  upon  the 
right  side.  Upon  several  occasions  I  have  accom- 
panied mother  to  Washington,  in  Fayette  county, 
where  the  work  was  simultaneous  with  that  of  our 
town,  and  only  wish  there  was  time  for  me  to  tell 
you  what  we  saw  and  heard  there.  One  hardened 
rum-seller  prayed  for  an  injunction  against  the  ladies, 
on  the  ground  that  their  prayers  were  directed  not  to 
heaven,  but  at  the  persons  whom  they  wished  to 
coerce  into  giving  up  their  business.  Judge  Safford 
granted  the  injunction,  and  the  tabernacle  erected 
for  the  shelter  of  the  ladies  was  demolished.  As  in 
our  own  place,  there  were  great  indignities  offered, 
and  much  cruel  persecution  endured,  but  followed 
with  glorious  results.  I  must  tell  you  of  a  little  in- 
cident concerning  Mrs.  C.,  who  leads  the  movement 


534  "MEsrinE  HEKMON. 


in  "Washington.  After  the  ladies  had  been  at  work 
for  some  time  at  the  saloon  of  a  stubborn  dealer,  he 
lost  patience,  and  rudely  told  them  to  go  home  and 
attend  to  their  own  business.  Thereupon  they  also 
lost  their  temper,  and  told  the  man  that  if  his  con- 
duct was  repeated,  they  would  send  their  husbands 
after  him  to  enforce  the  law,  as  they  were  anxious 
already  to  do.  This  did  not  mend  the  saloon-keeper's 
evil  mood.  But  when  the  ladies  retired  and  prayed 
over  the  matter  until  nearly  midnight,  they  saw  that 
they  had  not  acted  in  the  spirit  of  the  Master,  nor  in 
accordance  with  the  true  theory  of  the  movement. 
Accordingly,  on  the  next  morning  they  went  to  his 
saloon,  admitted  that  they  had  been  in  the  wrong, 
and  asked  his  pardon.  From  that  moment  his  fate 
was  sealed,  and  on  the  next  day  he  unconditionally 
surrendered. 

Other  victories  were  won,  and  now  there  is  not 
a  rum-shop  in  either  Hillsboro  or  Washington. 
Toward  the  last  of  January  I  accompanied  mother 
to  New  Vienna,  where  the  good  cause  was  progress- 
ing. There  were  some  exceedingly  obstinate  cases 
there,  among  whom  was  a  Mr.  Yan  Pelt,  who  at  the 
outset  drenched  the  ladies  with  dirty  water  and  beer. 
He  also  brandished  an  axe  in  order  to  terrify  them. 
They,  however,  kept  guard  over  his  saloon,  the  de- 
tachments relieving  each  other  every  two  hours, 
serving  daily,  through  storm  and  sunshine,  for  a 
period  of  three  weeks,  when  he  finally  succumbed  to 
the  influence  of  prayer,  and  hung  out  the  white  flag 
as  a  signal  of  unconditional  surrender.  So  complete 


THE  WOMEN'S  CRUSADE.  535 

was  his  conversion,  that  since  that  day  he  has  been  a 
faithful  and  earnest  ally  in  the  work,  bringing  to  it 
all  his  energies,  and  taking  the  field  like  a  new 
Paul. 

Soon  after  this  we  went  to  Xenia,  which  you  know 
is  a  large  town,  and  had  a  great  number  of  drinking 
saloons.  The  women  there  had  thoroughly  prepared 
themselves  for  the  work,  and  were  full  of  faith  and 
zeal.  The  leader  there  was  Mrs.  James  Monroe,  a 
friend  of  mother's,  a  member  of  the  Presbyterian 
Church,  and  a  lady  of  the  highest  standing.  The 
worst  drinking  saloon  in  the  town  had  the  very  ap- 
propriate name  of  "  The  Shades  of  Death,"  and  was 
doing  an  immense  business.  Mrs.  Monroe  and  her 
band  of  praying  women  laid  siege  to  this  place,  and, 
after  pleading  with  the  proprietor  most  urgently  to 
quit  the  business,  without  seeming  to  make  any  im- 
pression, as  he  would  not  allow  them  to  pray  and 
sing  in  his  saloon,  they  set  up  a  tabernacle  in  front 
of  it  and  beseiged  him  with  their  prayers  and  hymns 
from  morning  till  night  for  three  weeks.  He  seemed 
to  become  more  hardened  every  day,  and  some  of 
the  women  were  almost  ready  to  be  discouraged,  be- 
lieving that  his  heart  was  too  hard  to  be  moved; 
but  Mrs.  Monroe  had  still  strong  faith,  and  they  held 
out. 

She  had  sent  for  mother  to  come  and  help  them, 
and  we  reached  Xenia  on  the  morning  of  the  18th 
of  February,  and  went  directly  to  the  little  tabernacle, 
where  we  were  heartily  welcomed  by  Mrs.  Monroe 
and  the  other  ladies.  They  had  already  had  one 


536  MDiXIE    HEIiLKXN. 


prayer-meeting  that  morning,  but  there  were  no 
signs  of  any  change.  Bloated  topers  crowded  into  the 
saloon,  and  came  out  again  wiping  their  mouths  with 
the  back  of  their  hands,  and  occasionally  muttering  a 
curse  on  those  "  plaguey  women  that  kept  spying 
around."  The  saloon-keeper  was  busy  at  hig  bar, 
and  seemed  utterly  indifferent.  It  was  said  that  the 
distillers  in  Cincinnati  not  only  furnished  this  man 
with  liquor  free,  but  had  sent  him  money  to  induce 
him  to  hold  out.  Well,  Mrs.  Monroe  made  one  of 
the  sweetest  and  most  touching  prayers  I  ever  heard, 
and  we  had  just  begun  to  sing  our  favorite  hymn  — 

"Nearer,  my  God,  to  thee," 

when  this  rum-seller  rushed  out  of  his  saloon,  and 
running  up  to  the  tabernacle  door,  called  out,  "  Mrs. 
Monroe,  1  can't  stand  it  any  longer  —  I  give  in.  The 
boys  are  rolling  out  my  whiskey  barrels  now,  and  I 
want  you  to  see  me  spill  the  whole  of  it  into  the 
gutter."  We  all  hurried  to  the  door  ;  it  was  snow- 
ing hard,  but  there,  sure  enough,  were  the  whiskey 
barrels  tumbling  out,  and  as  soon  as  the  first  one 
reached  the  gutter,  the  saloon-keeper  struck  its  head 
a  mighty  blow  with  his  axe,  and  the  vile  poison  soon 
flowed  in  a  stream  down  the  street.  Barrel  after 
barrel  was  served  in  this  way,  till  the  saloon  was 
emptied.  The  poor  topers  looked  aghast  at  such  a 
waste,  but  the  saloon-keeper's  face  was  radiant  with 
joy,  and  the  crowd  which  had  gathered  shouted  over 
the  triumph  of  temperance.  The  dear  women  who 
had  fought  such  a  good  fight,  and  whose  faith  had 


THE  WOMEN'S  CEUSADE.  537 

not  faltered,  were  weeping,  laughing  and  praying, 
all  together.  Mrs.  Monroe  jumped  up  on  a  dry- 
goods  box  and  struck  up  tlie  grand  old  doxology — 

"Praise  God  from  whom  all  blessings  flow," 

and  everybody  joined  in,  the  saloon-keeper,  who 
had  really  a  very  fine  voice,  singing  with  a  will.  In 
a  few  minutes,  the  church-bells  all  over  town  began 
to  ring  merrily  for  the  victory,  and  within  an  hour 
it  was  telegraphed  all  over  the  state. 

There  was  another  scene  which  I  witnessed  in 
Xenia,  that  brought  tears  to  the  eyes  of  strong  men. 
A  large  band  of  young  school-girls,  led  by  their 
teacher,  took  their  station  before  the  saloons,  and 
sang  with  inexpressible  pathos,  such  songs  as,  "  Say ! 
Mr.  Barkeeper,  has  father  been  here  ? "  and  "  Father, 
dear  father,  come  home ! "  Oh !  these  little  voices 
have  a  wonderful  power  of  reaching  the  heart. 
Everybody  was  so  terribly  in  earnest  in  Xenia,  that 
I  do  not  believe  the  siege  will  be  raised  until  the 
last  liquor  saloon  has  surrendered. 

It  was  very  hard  for  us  to  tear  ourselves  away  from 
Xenia,  but  as  mother  was  one  of  the  delegates  to  the 
Convention  at  Columbus,  we  were  compelled  to  re- 
sume our  journey. 

Arriving  there  on  Saturday,  we  attended  a  large 
temperance  meeting  the  same  evening,  where  there 
were  about  1,200  ladies  assembled,  the  majority  of 
whom  were  ready  to  do  and  suffer  for  the  further- 
ance of  the  good  cause.  Previous  to  the  Conference, 
a  mass  meeting  was  held,  intended  to  strengthen  and 


538  MDTSIE    HEKMON. 

encourage  the  women  of  the  city  in  the  work  upon 
which  they  were  about  to  enter.  Dr.  Lewis  was 
there,  and  "  Mother  Stewart,"  of  Springfield,  an 
accomplished  and  most  lovely  old  lady,  over  seventy 
years  of  age,  but  with  all  the  zeal  and  fervor  of  youth, 
also  the  New  Yienna  convert,  Van  Pelt.  Women 
constituted  seven-eighths  of  the  assemblage,  did  near- 
ly all  the  speaking,  and  soon  became  almost  enthusi- 
astic enough  to  march  in  a  body  upon  the  dram-shops 
of  the  State  capital.  The  speeches  were  all  in  re- 
markably good  taste,  and  some  were  really  eloquent. 
Tears  were  brought  to  many  eyes,  the  house  re- 
sounded with  "  Amens  "  and  "  Hallelujahs  "  from 
the  listening  men,  and,  after  every  speech,  the  crowd 
arose  and  sang  one  of  the  songs  of  the  campaign  with 
thrilling  effect.  These  songs  were  the  well-known 
hymns,  "  Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee,"  "  All  Hail  the 
Power  of  Jesus'  Name,"  and  "  Our  God  is  March- 
ing On."  Mrs.  Mattie  McClelland  Brown  and 
Mother  Stewart  held  the  almost  breathless  attention 
of  the  audience. 

The  convention  met  in  the  City  Hall.  Several 
hundred  delegates  were  present,  and  the  platform 
was  occupied  by  twenty-five  clergymen.  Dio  Lewis 
was  called  to  the  chair,  and,  after  a  most  fervent 
prayer  by  Mother  Stewart,  the  doctor  invited  the 
delegates  to  the  platform,  which  proved  entirely  too 
small  for  such  a  large  body.  Reports  were  read  con- 
cerning the  progress  of  the  crusade  in  different  towns, 
and  many  a  thrilling  story  was  told  by  those  who 
were  personally  cognizant  of  the  facts.  Messages 


THE  WOMEN'S  CKUSADE.  539 

were  also  received  from  time  to  time,  from  different 
points,  announcing  new  victories,  and  calling  forth 
fresh  rejoicings,  and  a  "Woman's  State  Temperance 
League  was  formed.  But,  Carrie  dear,  mj  letter  is 
growing  too  long.  Come  and  see  me,  for  I  cannot 
unburden  my  heart  on  paper,  and  what  you  read  in 
the  papers  seems  so  tame  in  the  light  of  reality.  I 
shall  continue  in  the  good  work,  for  there  is  a  great 
deal  of  finishing-up  to  do  yet,  and,  when  all  is  done 
at  home,  there  is  enough  to  do  abroad.  Hoping  to 
see  you  soon,  and  believing  that  you  will  patiently 
endure  this  infliction  for  the  love  you  bear  the  cause, 
I  am,  always,  your  loving 

IDA  MAT  BEAYTON. 


54:0  MTNNIE   HEEMON. 

THE  WOMEN'S  CRUSADE. 

BT  LOUISE   S.   UPHAM. 

OH  !  hark,  what  cry  is  sounding,  borne  clear  upon  the  air ! 
"  Ring,  bells,  throughout  the  nation,  ring,  ring  the  call  to 

prayer  P 
The  women  now   are  rising,  and  the  Help  in  which  they 

trust 
Will  give  them  strength  for  victory  in  the  cause  that  is  so 

just  I 
The  wires  flash  joyous  greeting ;  back  and  forth,  from  East 

to  "West, 

The  words  are,  "  God  is  with  us,  and  this,  of  all,  is  best  1" 
Ah  1  sordid  hearts  may  fear  and  quake,  for  well  indeed  they 

know 
The  courage  born  of  suffering  wiil  strike  the  surest  blow. 

Ho !  all  long-suffering  mothers,  wives,  daughters,  sing  and 

pray, 

For  a  new  crusade  they  usher — your  emancipation-day. 
They  rally  round  no  standard,  with  no  helmet  and  no  shield, 
Save    their  womanly   endeavors,  but  will  never   yield  the 

field. 
They  do  not  work  with  pledge  alnne  that  says,  "  We  will  not 

taste 

The  soul-destroying  liquors  that  run  our  lives  to  waste  1" 
At  evil's  root  they  are  striking,  right  valiantly  and  well, 
And  the  pledge  which  they  insist  on  is,  "  We'll  never,  never 

sell !" 

They   bravely   enter   places   where  men   would    blush    for 

shame 
To  be  found  by  those  who  know  them  by  their  honored 

household  name. 


THE  WOMEN'S  CKUSADE.  541 

They  have  found  in  bar-rooms  children,  who  their  little  arms 

would  twine 
Hound  a  father's  neck,  beseeching  that  he  their  pledge  would 

sign. 

They  seek  no  law,  no  conflict ;  their  labor  is  of  love ; 
Their  help,  the  rule  of  kindness ;  their  guidance,  God  above. 
O  bells !  ring  out,  ring  boldly ;  sound  the  tocsin  everywhere, 
While  heart  to  heart  is  thrilling  with  woman's  call  to  prayer. 

On,  on,  heroic  women  !  your  warfare  cannot  fail, 

E'en  now  your  foes  are  shaking  like  reeds  before  a  gale  ; 

A  million  lives  are  sighing  for  truer  liberty, 

A  million  souls  are  waiting  your  glorious  victory. 

Urged  by  the  suffering  legion  who  have  stirred  you  to  the  strife, 

Down  with  the  sordid  traffic  that  is  taking  more  than  life  !  ] 

The  day  is  yours;  charge  nobly.     Crush  the  tyrant  every* 

where  I 
While  the  tocsin-peal  is  ringing  brave  woman's  call  to  prayer. 


BATTLE-HYMN  OF  THE  WOMEN'S  CRUSADE. 

BY  KEV.    WILLIAM  HUNTER,   D.D. 

THE  light  of  truth  is  breaking ; 

On  the  mountain  tops  it  gleams ; 
Let  it  flash  along  our  valleys, 

Let  it  glitter  on  our  streams, 
Till  all  our  land  awakens 

In  its  flush  of  golden  beams. 
Our  God  is  marching  on. 

With  purpose  strong  and  steady, 
In  the  Great  Jehovah's  name, 

We  rise  to  snatch  our  kindred 

From  the  depths  of  woe  and  shame ; 


54:2  MIXNIE    HEEMON. 

And  the  jubilee  of  freedom 
To  the  slaves  of  sin  proclaim. 
Our  God  is  marching  on. 

From  morning's  early  watches 
Till  the  setting  of  the  sun, 

We  will  never  flag  nor  falter 
In  the  work  we  have  begun, 

Till  the  forts  have  all  surrendered, 
And  the  victory  is  won. 
Our  God  is  marching  on. 

We  wield  no  carnal  weapon, 
And  we  hurl  no  fiery  dart ; 

But  with  words  of  love  and  reason 
We  are  sure  to  win  the  heart, 

And  persuade  the  poor  transgressor 
To  prefer  the  better  part. 
Our  God  is  marching  on. 

When  dawns  the  day  of  terror, 
And  the  awful  trumpet's  sound 

Shall  waken  up  the  sleepers 
From  beneath  the  quaking  ground, 

May  no  blood  of  fallen  brothers 
On  our  startled  souls  be  found  I 
Our  God  is  marching  on. 

Our  strength  is  in  Jehovah, 
And  our  cause  is  in  His  care ; 

With  Almighty  iirms  to  help  us, 
We  have  faith  to  do  and  dare, 

While  confiding  in  the  promise 
That  the  Lord  will  answer  prayer. 
Our  God  is  marching  on. 


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